


Gasping

by sheiksleopardthong



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Flirting, Gen, Introspection, KH Rogue Nebula, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, M/M, Not Ship focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22335913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiksleopardthong/pseuds/sheiksleopardthong
Summary: Demyx knows things aren't going to go his way. He's going to die, cold and heartless. But maybe he can prolong the inevitable.In the ruins of Radiant Garden, Demyx prepares himself for his final stand. At least, that's what the Superior is supposed to think. Instead, he's readied a speech, short and sweet. If he wants to avoid certain doom, he'll have to act quickly. Luckily, not-Roxas & Co. seem to be pretty forgiving.He's going to die anyway. He may as well do it with a clean conscience.
Relationships: Demyx & Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Demyx/Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 81
Kudos: 128





	1. Breath-

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to be here, you guys! I've been working on this fic since the Spring and I'm so excited to share it with everyone. This is maybe the most work I've ever done on a fic - the most time taken, the most editing and rewriting. I learned so much and I think I really grew as a writer. And I have the incredible Kingdom Hearts Rogue Nebula to thank for that.
> 
> This event has been huge. I met so many wonderful people, learned so many wonderful skills. I implore you to check out all of the other fics that are being put up for this event.
> 
> Thank you, as well, to my amazing beta Miescha. My best friend, my rock, my Demyx. <3
> 
> Like, comment, subscribe, and don't forget to ring that bell.
> 
> (Kingdom Hearts Rogue Nebula 2020)

He sees a lot more than they think he does, sitting on the sofa in the common room. Strumming his sitar lazily, or simply zoning out and looking out the windows; his gaze is purposefully, pointedly, anywhere but Kingdom Hearts. Sometimes for hours at a time, just letting the timeless, starless sky sit, heavy, before him.

No one says anything around him that they shouldn’t, of course. They’re not that stupid. And despite everything, they must know that he’s not _that_ stupid. But knowing glances tell more than they might realize. More than they want him to know, probably. Certainly more than _he_ wants to know.

Once or twice (wishful thinking; it’s much more often than that), Axel looks over at him, tries to share one of those looks. But Demyx blinks dumbly, cocks his head to the side and waves. Axel smiles and waves back, the moment over. He leaves. Saïx glares after him. It’s clear he’s trying to just be mad about Axel’s “terrible lack of work ethic”, or any number of things Demyx hears him nag on about day in and day out. The things he gave up trying to drill into Demyx pretty early into the musician’s days in the Organization. But still he pulls Axel aside, mutters to him, just loud enough for everyone to be aware that Axel’s being lectured, but carefully quiet enough that no one can hear just what Saïx is saying. At first Axel would mutter back some, but now he just rolls his eyes, holds his hands behind his head, looks anywhere but Saïx’s face, tunes it out. Saïx gets madder.

Demyx joined the Organization after them, obviously, but even in the time he’s watched them, they’ve grown distant, drifted apart. Something happened, he knows, even if they’re both pretending otherwise.

Saïx tries very hard to be mad about Axel’s work ethic. His amber eyes betray a sadness that would break Demyx’s heart, if he had one.

He sees this, over and over. He ignores it.

It’s only when Saïx stops trying to reason with Axel that Demyx starts paying attention on purpose. He’s not proud of it; his mother raised him better than to eavesdrop. But he’s been bored, and something has _changed_ , for the first time since he joined the Organization.

Well, sure, Luxord, Marluxia and Larxene all joined, but that didn’t really _switch things up_. Didn’t stir the pot. They largely all keep to themselves: do their missions then disappear from the more public areas to do Kingdom Hearts knows what.

Demyx prefers it that way. The rare occasions that Larxene joins him in the common room are…exhausting, to say the least. She’s just so mean! He wonders why she even bothers spending time around him when she can’t stand to even listen to him breathe (her words, not his).

_“God_ damn, _did you never learn to use your nostrils? Shut it, mouth breather.”_

_“I mean, I actually –”_

_“It was a rhetorical question. And if you ask me what that means I’m going to shove my foot so far up your ass, your stupid guitar will feel it.”_

He tries to sit as far away from her as possible, lips pursed in a tight pout, even if he really just wants to tell her how offensive it is, calling his _baby_ a _guitar_.

It’s not until the thirteenth member, Roxas, shows up, that things get interesting. The kid ( _a kid, really? Xemnas must seriously be losing it_ ) seems boring at first. Demyx hears the others call him a “zombie”, whatever that is. But he can wield the keyblade, so maybe they’ll get their hearts back soon after all. This Roxas kid doesn’t need a personality to get shit done.

But it’s the effect his presence has on the others that’s _really_ intriguing: Axel is tasked with watching him, showing him the ropes, and even seems to not mind the task after a mission or two. Seems, if anything, fairly fond of the kid. And Saïx, whose gaze has been constantly boring into Axel’s back whenever they’re in the same room together, seems suddenly unable to look at Axel at all. Their interactions are terse, brief. Saïx doesn’t glare after his ~~former~~ friend as he leaves anymore. He _does_ eye Roxas an awful lot, but his expression is oddly unreadable. That’s not something Demyx encounters very often. He’ll have to keep an eye on that.

That’s when things start getting weird. Well, weirder than the whole Nobody thing in general.

Nobodies aren’t supposed to have twins, right? At least, no one has ever said anything about any siblings. Yet barely a week since Roxas’ appearance in the Organization, another kid, identical in every way, shows up too.

“Xion.”

Another keyblade wielder? Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? Twelve members with no such powers, only to get two in the span of a week. It rubs Demyx the wrong way, and he briefly considers hanging out with Axel, Roxas and “Xion”. They seem to spend enough time together that it wouldn’t be too hard to spend time with _all_ of them, maybe start getting to the bottom of it. But that’s an awful lot of work. And Demyx doesn’t have any intention of getting involved in any of the many conspiracies that seem to be happening all at once.

He does get the opportunity to talk to Roxas and Xion when Axel gets reassigned to Castle Oblivion (clearly to keep an eye on the others there, but you didn’t hear that from Demyx). Roxas consistently refers to Xion as a girl, which takes Demyx a bit to get into the habit of doing as well, but he’s not one to judge. She’s nice, nicer than Roxas, who can be awfully bristly when he’s caught in a bad mood. Demyx finds himself wishing he was willing to get involved after all. But he contents himself with catching the odd conversation with the both of them where he can.

They’re good kids.

Word of Larxene and Marluxia’s treason reaches him directly only at a meeting. There are a lot of empty seats, and he’s not told exactly what happened to any of them, of what happened at all. They’ve been _taken care of_ , which is so cliché that Demyx has to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Saïx says it.

But the main takeaway of the meeting is that no one’s to go to Castle Oblivion anymore, apparently. It doesn’t much matter to Demyx. They’d all taken a tour when Xemnas had first found it, and he’d seen enough. The acoustics are terrible.

He hadn’t wanted anything to do with Larxene and Marluxia’s coup, though it had been clear they’d been up to something for months. Larxene had made some sly glances his way, asked what was on his mind, what he could possibly be thinking about, day in and day out in the common area. How bored he must be. Maybe he just wasn’t being challenged?

It sounded mean, mocking, but she clearly was trying to get him to talk (it was pretty easy to get Demyx to talk, once you got him going, usually much to Larxene’s chagrin). But if she could get some proof that he was a) uninterested in the Organization’s goals and b) not as unobservant as he pretended to be, then she surely would have run back to Marluxia with the wonderful news, and they’d have engineered his reassignment to Castle Oblivion with them.

Demyx prefers pretending to be unobservant. In fact, if he could have his way, he’d just be plain-old unobservant. It’s exhausting, knowing things.

He still doesn’t want to get involved with their plot, even posthumously, so he doesn’t tell anyone that Axel had clearly had something to do with it. He has his hands in all the cookie jars, that one.

Demyx just wants to keep his head down and help Roxas and Xion finish Kingdom Hearts. Maybe then he can go home. He misses the real moon, white and circular over the ocean.

He should have known the melodrama wasn’t done, by the way Axel looks at Xion when he thinks no one’s looking.

Demyx is starting to get the feeling Axel _wants_ him to say something.

But he doesn’t, and everything goes to shit.


	2. Day 358

There are an awful lot of blank pages in his journal, between Roxas’ arrival and his disappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 3 comes out on Friday!


	3. Taste-

They send him to Olympus Coliseum, note in hand. Maybe he’s actually selling his ‘dumb and oblivious’ act, if they think he can’t even remember the simplest set of instructions. Not that he wants to follow them. Demyx has never liked violence, even as a means to an end, which is the way Saïx keeps telling him to rationalise it.

_“I’m a lover, not a fighter!”_

_“We’re Nobodies, we’re not lovers anymore, either.”_

_“Oh, yeah.”_

The Underworld is cool, and damp – he watches the ghosts float around, almost swimming through the air – and it reminds him of home. He could do without the aforementioned spirits of the dead pulling at the drawstrings of his cloak, trailing across his face whenever he lowers his hood. But otherwise he kinda likes it here. 

He wonders if this Underworld, and the god Hades that rules it, are the same as the ones spoken about back home. Perhaps they were connected, before the worlds spread so far from each other. Maybe that’s why the Underworld reminds him, faintly, of home. Demyx takes some time to wander around and enjoy the new scenery before his target arrives.

As it turns out, he’d recognize Roxas’ eyes anywhere.

And yes, he knows what that sounds like. And no, it wasn’t like that. It’s not like that. They’re just bluer than any he’s seen – like the ocean under the summer sun. Deep and sparkling in the light. Something else he misses about home.

The ocean, not Roxas’ eyes. It’s not like that!

But this clearly isn’t Roxas. Aside from the eyes, he looks entirely different, sounds entirely different. His eyebrows are more expressive, too. And his nose scrunches when he’s confused in a way that Roxas’ never did.

_Wow. Okay, focus Demyx. You’ve got a job to do. Icky or not._

Hades seems to have the whole murderous intent thing under control, though, so Demyx scrams back to The World That Never Was as soon as he can. Maybe someone else can deal with not-Roxas, who, with his keyblade, is at least taking care of the heartless in the meantime. Maybe Demyx will get his heart back tomorrow, and he can go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

Demyx quarantines himself in his room when he gets back to The World That Never Was, throws himself onto his bed, and falls into a fitful sleep. He dreams of steel drums, and when he wakes up, feels a sense of regret that he can’t place.

After another failed attempt at fitful sleep, Demyx does something he never thought he would, since joining the Organization: he starts asking around.

Xigbar is a good start, he figures. As No. 2, he has near-unfettered access to the Superior’s plots and schemes (at least, Demyx assumes), but if someone can make something interesting, he seems willing to share…maybe more than he should. To spice things up, or something.

It’s rare that Demyx finds a risk he’s willing to take.

He finds Xigbar in his room, reading a hardcover book with the sleeve nowhere to be seen, leaning back comfortably in his bed. He’s wearing loose cotton pants and…no shirt. Which is a new one. Demyx blinks in surprise, gaze pulled to the thick, twisted scars that cover his torso and upper arms. Xigbar flips his eyepatch down, on the side Demyx can’t see, before turning to grin at him. Maybe it gets sweaty, under there. Not for the first time, Demyx wonders what the eye looks like under that patch. Is it as gnarled and angry as the scars adorning the rest of Xigbar’s (surprisingly toned, for how thin his frame is) body? He isn’t curious enough to ask, though. That seems like it would be rude.

“What’s up, Guppy?”

Demyx frowns at the nickname. Topical as it is, it’s certainly one of the more condescending epithets that Xigbar has deigned to bestow. Xigbar also knows how Demyx feels about it, which is probably why he’s continued to use it at every opportunity.

“I had a question. A few, actually, if you’ve got the time,” Demyx starts to lean against the doorframe until Xigbar beckons him in properly, motions for him to close the door behind him. Demyx takes that as an invitation to continue speaking, and leans against the door itself before doing so. “We’re still…working on getting our hearts back, right? That’s always been the whole point of our missions – especially since Roxas joined.”

“Yeah, of course,” Xigbar nods, studying Demyx with his one, very intense eye. Of course, even if that weren’t the plan, Demyx doubts that Xigbar would let that information slip so easily. He’s going to have to get more creative with it if he wants to actually get anywhere.

“This new keyblade wielder we’re going after – who is he?” he tries a new approach.

“Someone hasn’t been paying attention. He’s Roxas. Or, the person Roxas is when his heart’s whole.”

“Yeah, no, duh,” Demyx shakes his head. Xigbar is one of the few people Demyx suspects knows he’s not a complete moron. But if this is bait, he can’t afford not to rise to it. “But like, cosmically, I guess. Why do we care about him?”

Xigbar laughs. “That’s a bit of a big question. Why don’t we start with why you want to know?”

“You sent me to Olympus Coliseum. Why me?”

“You volunteered, didn’t you?” he smirks.

Demyx sighs, lips pursed in a frown. He tries a different line of questions. “If that’s supposed to be Roxas’ original, shouldn’t we be happy for him? He got to go back to his old self,” Demyx has a hundred questions he wants to ask about this, specifically. About becoming whole again. But he holds them in. One question at a time. As difficult as restraint may be, Demyx needs to gauge Xigbar’s willingness to give up information in the first place. He seems at ease for the moment, and Demyx intends to take advantage of that. 

“That’s why we’re bringing in bigger and bigger heartless for him to fight,” Xigbar shrugs, cutting through the silence when it’s clear Demyx isn’t going to. “The more he kills, the stronger he gets, the faster we get our own hearts back.”

“Or awaken Roxas, right? But why? If this guy has a keyblade too, who cares which one’s using it? Why are we getting in his way at all? He seems to be killing enough heartless all on his own, to me.”

“Who knows? Maybe Xemnas is getting senile in his old age,” Xigbar grins slow, sly, eerily cat-like, watching Demyx from the corner of his eye. Demyx gets the distinct impression he’s being _fattened up_. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Despite what Xigbar’s true intentions may be, Demyx presses on, lips pursed in frustration. “It doesn’t make any sense. There aren’t very many of us left. This kid clearly doesn’t remember even being Roxas, and if we continue to piss him off – ” Demyx stops, blinks. Realizes. Xigbar’s grin gets, somehow, even curlier. Anticipatory. Demyx meets his gaze, closes his mouth, expression hard. They both know that’s all Demyx is getting out of him now, after all. And if there’s anything Demyx is good at, it’s quitting. Especially when he’s ahead.

“That all?” Xigbar almost purrs.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. See you around.”

“See ya,” he winks. It looks stupid with just the one visible eye.

Demyx leaves with carefully casual movements, not risking letting out his shiver, or peeling his cloak off to offset the sweats, until he’s safe in his own room, nearly the entire hall’s length away from Xigbar’s.

_If they’re really trying to kill us off… Maybe I should have joined Marluxia and Larxene after all. Just gotten it over with._

Demyx isn’t sent out on another mission for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray another real chapter!
> 
> I'm sorry about the last one; I was trying to do something new and interesting but the feedback I've largely gotten is that it didn't land quite the way that I'd hoped ^^; I can't promise I won't do weird shit like that ever again but I hope you'll be patient with me as I test the bounds and have fun with it. I can definitely promise that there are no more one-line chapters in Gasping.
> 
> Chapter 4 is out on Tuesday!


	4. Faith-

Radian Garden, where everything began. The homeworld of – well, almost all of the Organization, now that he thinks about it. He and Luxord aren’t, at least. Larxene and Marluxia never talked about it, not that Demyx blames them. Larxene had gotten aggressive whenever anyone asked, or even mentioned knowing about their pasts around her. Marluxia had been more diplomatic about it; he just changed the subject (some times more pointedly than others). Demyx has always wondered what happened to those two, to make them so unwilling to discuss it.

The way Axel had talked about Radiant Garden once or twice had made it sound beautiful – bright, and full of flowers, and crystal clear fountains; the architecture twisting tall and proud around him. But if that were true, it’s more than a little worse for wear, now. Construction tape and the hot smell of freshly cut two-by-fours tell of a city that’s trying to go back to those glory days.

Demyx understands that feeling. He hopes they can. He hopes they all can.

But his target isn’t in town. Besides, he can avoid Xigbar and Saïx better out in the foothills anyway.

Right on time, the familiar rattle of three mismatched footfalls echo through the crags. He blocks not-Roxas’ way down the path, and the boy drops into a low fighting stance, keyblade suddenly in hand. Demyx splays his hands in front of himself defensively, jerking in a façade of fear.

Sure, he’s plenty afraid, but he’s not dumb enough to show it for real. It’s just that a little _placation_ never hurt. He’s made up his mind; this is his only choice. There’s no point in begging, or cowering. If he has to, Demyx can put up one hell of a fight.

“Roxas –”

“My name is Sora!” the boy clutches his keyblade tighter.

“Sora, right. I bet you’ve been getting a lot of that lately, huh?”

“It’s getting old.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Demyx looks down at Sora thoughtfully, empathetically, and swallows. “I’m supposed to kill you.”

“I know.”

“But that’s not what’s going to happen, right? You know it, I know it.”

That seems to give Sora pause. “What…do you mean?”

“If you’re anywhere close to as strong as Roxas was, you’re gonna wipe out the few of us there are left. And with how many heartless we’ve thrown your way, I don’t doubt that’s the case. There’s no way I’m getting out of this alive.”

“But aren’t you technically already dead if you don’t have a heart?” Sora starts off (weakly, Demyx thinks, with the wrong question – the first one that crossed his mind, which is, in Demyx’s experience, very rarely the most insightful), scrunching his nose and cocking his head a little, his posture losing some of its aggression. Rookie mistake. Demyx could knock him flat, use water clones to take out his friends – 

“Now don’t be mean. We do too have hearts,” Demyx flashes him a grin and chuckles a little. Shakes his head. “But that’s beside the point. I fight you; you kill me. I refuse, the Superior turns me into a Dusk. It’s a lose-lose.”

Sora seems to think about that for a moment. “So, what does that mean, then?” Ah, now he asks the right question.

“It means, Sora, that I’m joining your team!” Demyx jerks his thumb towards his chest, grinning.

Sora blinks, confused, and looks between his compatriots. The duck shakes his head, a powerful frown furrowing his feathery brow.

The dog, however, shrugs. “Gawrsh, we sure could use all the help we can get, don’t’cha think?”

“Absolutely not!” the duck shrieks. “He’s a member of the Organization! He’s evil!”

“Hey, uh, I’m right here,” Demyx waves, pouting.

They don’t acknowledge him, instead turning their backs to him to form a little triangle and conversing quietly. They really are stupid, huh? He could easily take them out like this, too. Boy, are they ever lucky he’s already made up his mind.

Instead Demyx crosses his arms, taps his foot (it starts out impatient, but quickly morphs into the rhythm of a song he’s been working on), and waits for them to turn around, for Sora to nod, then smile. So bright that Demyx remembers, just for a brief second, what the Light is like. Interesting. 

“Okay, you can come with us,” Sora pronounces excitedly, all the previous animosity melted away like ice in his hands. The dog nods; the duck huffs and looks away. “You already know I’m Sora. These guys are Donald, and Goofy.”

“Welcome to the team,” Goofy says. Donald doesn’t say anything. That’s alright; Demyx is used to rejection.

“Demyx. Nice to properly meet you.”

“Yeah… But we don’t have time to dawdle, let’s get going,” Sora dispels his keyblade and starts forward. Demyx steps out of his way and falls into pace with Donald and Goofy. But before they can get far, a voice calls from behind them.

“Fellas! Look out behind you!”

The group turns, panicked, weapons drawn, and Demyx sees a creature – a mouse? – behind them with his own keyblade out, but otherwise the area is empty.

“Sora! Donald! Goofy! What are you doing? A member of Organization XIII –” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m on their side,” Demyx flashes an easy smile.

That stops him in his tracks. “What? Sora, is that true?”

“Well, yeah,” Sora says, shrugging. “This is Demyx. He says he wants to help us, or his boss is gonna kill him.”

“Oh,” the mouse says, frowning and looking Demyx up and down. He clearly isn’t fully convinced, but he nods anyway. “The more help we have the better, I suppose. Now, let’s pull together and finish this battle for good.”

The others stand straight and tall. “Yes, your Majesty!” they chime as a chorus. Majesty? Is this guy a king or something? Demyx just gives an awkward thumbs up.

As the mouse king steps towards Demyx, he outstretches a hand. But before Demyx can take it and properly exchange names, there’s a loud cracking sound from above them, and a boulder easily as tall as Sora falls towards the group.

“Watch out!” Demyx slides into the way of the boulder, slinging his sitar in front of him and playing a sharp, ugly chord. It echoes through the valley, causing the others to cover their ears and cry out in distress. But the noise also does its job: the boulder cracks in the centre, quickly shattering into a collection of smaller rocks that harmlessly bounce off everything they hit.

Once silence falls, everyone looks around to be sure nothing else is coming at them, and then a quartet of laughs surround Demyx. The others touch him – on his back, his shoulder, his arms.

“You saved my life! Thank you,” the mouse says, genuine gratitude in his face, along with a touch of disbelief. “My name is Mickey. Welcome to the team.”

Demyx can feel a smile pulling at his lips, wide and true, and he dispels his sitar, wraps his arms around Sora and Goofy’s shoulders – the other two are too short to even consider embracing without squatting down (and that seems like it would be…condescending, at best) – looking around at the group.

All of them, even Donald, are looking at him with a warmth and trust that he had only been able to conjure, briefly, in the few dreams he’d had of late. It hadn’t even come close to this feeling, surrounded by people who want him around, who trust him. Who maybe, eventually, will call him their friend.

 _I guess they’ll be my friends too._ The thought feels strange. Demyx never called any of the Organization members friends, was never invested in their lives, in their safety. Well, Roxas and… No. Just Roxas, that’s right. Just Roxas. But that wasn’t about them being friends so much as… Demyx can’t put a finger on it. It’s some feeling.

He’s gonna have to get used to having those again.

_Who are you kidding, Demyx. You’ve had feelings this whole time. You all have._

“Alright, let’s get going, before I get caught,” Demyx gives one last squeeze before pulling away, missing the warmth of their bodies instantly, and motions, with a staccato point of his chin, for Sora and Mickey to lead the way through the chasm.

Pretending not to have feelings was easier, certainly, which is likely why the other Nobodies have always been so insistent that they don’t have them. That they don’t have hearts, or ties to their old lives, even if they remember them in the first place.

Demyx wonders just how buried it is for some of them. Do they believe hard enough that it becomes true? Or, do they just not recognize their emotions when they happen, so steadfast in their brainwashing at the hands of the Superior – Xemnas?

Is there even a functional difference?

* * *

They seem surprised that he’s decent in a fight. Demyx would be offended if he liked fighting at all.

He strums his sitar with a harsh downwards motion, the heartless stopped in their attempt to rush him, thrown backwards instead. Blue Rhapsodies tumble tail over tip in the air, right into the sharp edge of Goofy’s shield. He looks over at Demyx after the hit, grinning and giving a quick thumbs up before whirling around to give the same treatment to a Soldier that had attempted to get the drop on him.

Soon enough the last of the heartless in the valley scatter, finally having learned their lesson, but before they can regroup, a shadow casts, long and thin, over the canyon. Demyx peers up at a figure standing on the cliff face, silhouetted harshly.

The figure lifts its arms, drawing back a heavy hood to reveal long, silver hair and piercing golden eyes.

“Shit,” Demyx hisses. He moves to open a dark portal, but stops himself. It’s too late for that. Xemnas has no doubt seen his face already, knows exactly what choice he’s made.

And even if he somehow can’t make Demyx out from all the way up there, opening a portal will certainly narrow the pool of suspects considerably.

So instead he simply glares up, expression carefully hard. 

“Now I remember!” Mickey’s voice cuts through the silence, and Demyx nearly jumps. “The leader of Organization XIII is Xehanort’s Nobody!”

“His name is Xemnas,” Demyx hums, keeping his voice low, still in hopes that he is as hard to see from up there as Xemnas is from down here. He doesn’t know who this Xehanort guy was, but from the King’s tone he sounds like bad news. Not surprising, knowing Demyx’s former Superior.

Xemnas turns, and before he can disappear from view, Mickey and Sora leap in his direction with a shout. A veritable horde of heartless appear and begin to flood the valley like a stampede. They stop in their tracks, looking wildly around themselves. There must be hundreds.

“Ignore the heartless,” Demyx calls. “Go! I can hold them off. You need to get to Xemnas.”

“But – ” Sora’s brows knit, a pout pursing his lips.

“Go! I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Goofy nods first. “See ya later, Demyx.”

“Yeah. Good luck,” Donald says. 

“Heh,” Demyx smirks, pulling Arpeggio out from the darkness and turning to face the approaching heartless. “Don’t you know saying that to a performer’s bad luck?”

* * *

His body is heavy, bone-tired. It takes every ounce of Demyx’s self control to remain upright in his chair, instead of slumping to the floor like an eel.

Sure, fighting all those heartless was exhausting, but hearing what happened to Sora up on that cliff was worse.

“Axel is a wild card. He’s dangerous, but only if you get on his bad side,” Demyx says, rubbing a temple with his middle finger, eyes pinched together. He’s getting a headache.

“I don’t want to be on his good side!” Sora huffs. “He kidnapped Kairi!”

“Just, trust me on this one. He’s unpredictable. If you get in his way, he _will_ kill you. But…I don’t think his aims line up with those of the Organization, so you might be okay on that front. Just stay out of his way.”

“What about this Saïx fella? I think I’m more worried about him, Sora,” Goofy says.

“Yeah,” Donald nods. “He was…intense.”

“He’s bad news,” Demyx agrees. “Xemnas’ second in command, loyal to the end. He’ll do anything to further the goal Xemnas has been preaching: completing Kingdom Hearts.”

“And, we have to collect hearts for that, right? By defeating the heartless?” Sora’s voice is more level, now, calmer now the subject’s changed off of Axel, and Kairi.

“That’s what he’s been saying, anyways. We need keyblade wielders to collect the hearts from fallen heartless, and eventually, by doing that, we’ll get out hearts back. Become whole again,” Demyx trails off, frowning.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Donald says. 

“Yeah… Except I don’t believe it,” Demyx says. “It’s too…selfless. No. There’s something else going on. I just never figured out what.” Not that he ever tried to, not until it was too late. But there’s no use mentioning that to the others. He sighs, shaking his head and slumping in his chair despite his best efforts. “Listen, I think I need to lie low for a bit.”

“What?” Donald exclaims. “But we need you! You know so much about the Organization!”

“And ya _just_ got here,” Goofy says.

“I know, I know,” Demyx winces. “But Xemnas knows I’m with you guys, now. Which means so does every other Organization XIII member still alive. Which means they’ll be coming after me too.”

“It won’t be any more dangerous than it was before,” Goofy says. 

“But, if I go off on my own, their attention will be split. It might, in fact, be safer this way.” Realization dawns on the faces of his companions, and Demyx smiles a little. “Listen, you guys have to do your jobs. You have to keep the worlds safe from the heartless, and from the Organization. But I can look into things in the meantime. One person is a lot stealthier than four, after all.”

“You can gather information, while we help folks,” Goofy nods. “Gosh, that sure makes sense, Demyx.”

“But, will you be alright?” Donald asks.

“I will, don’t worry. If I get in a tight spot, I can always summon lesser nobodies to help.”

“Right…” Sora still looks a little skeptical, but he nods slowly. “We can regroup in Radiant Garden, then, when we’re looking for each other. At Merlin’s house. I’ll write the directions down for you, Demyx. The Restoration Committee has it set up as a home base already. And if Leon will show you the computer, you can call the Gummi Ship to talk to us.”

That’s…a lot of information all at once, but Demyx nods. His memory is pretty good. And with directions to this Merlin guy’s house, he should be set. He thinks. He hopes.


	5. Watch Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _he may as well do it with a clean conscience_

The World That Never Was hasn’t changed, and Demyx doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Sure, it’s nice to know that he’ll be able to lead everyone through it more easily, that it still has the same nooks and crannies to keep an eye on. But he’s just reminded of how _empty_ this world is. Much like its inhabitants, it lacks a heart.

Demyx can’t help but dwell on Axel’s untimely demise. Plenty of Nobodies – lesser and otherwise – have died since he joined their ranks, but to see it so clearly, to watch someone so vibrant and alive fade before his very eyes… He suppresses a shudder, glances sidelong at Sora. The boy’s own sea-blue eyes are wide, harrowed. It seems Demyx isn’t alone in his thoughts.

“Axel said Kairi’s in the dungeon,” Sora says, voice hollow, pressing on.

Luckily, they don’t have to make it to the dungeon to find Kairi. A voice – bright and feminine – rings out, bouncing off the white walls, and everyone’s gaze turns up to see her high on a ledge opposite Saïx, leaning over the banister.

“Sora!” she cries, a smile to match her voice visible even from where they are. “It’s really you!”

“Kairi!” Sora beams up at her, dropping his guard for a split second. Just enough time for the Shadows to cover him.

“Leave Sora alone!” Kairi cries, tenses, takes a few steps back, and launches herself off of the railing and down, down. Demyx feels his stomach drop on her behalf before she hits the ground running, pushing towards Sora even as the Shadows cover her as well.

Demyx starts towards the girl. They both need help, but if he doesn’t try to save Kairi, he knows he’ll never hear the end of it from Sora. But before he can reach her, a flash of light drives him back, arms rising up to cover his eyes. Demyx can feel the Shadows retreat from the light, driven away just as quickly as they had come.

When he can finally look up, blinking stars out of his eyes, he sees a man in an Organization cloak that he doesn’t recognize, tall and dark like Xemnas, but younger, softer. His hand grips Kairi’s arm, and he hands her a keyblade. Kairi takes the keyblade and nods definitively.

“This time, _I’ll_ fight. You know Sora’s completely helpless without us, Riku.”

_Wait, who’s Riku?_

The new guy summons a keyblade of his own (just how many of them are there?) and the two push into the swarm of Shadows, advancing again now that the light has receded.

“What’s going on!?” Sora cries, looking between Kairi and Riku incredulously.

Something lands in front of Sora’s feet, and he jumps back just in time to avoid the strike. A katar sticks out of the ground just where he was standing, and Demyx feels a cold chill run up his spine.

Looking up, he sees Xigbar perched up on yet another ledge (who designed this place!?). Xigbar smirks, slow and predatory, and looks between Sora and Demyx lazily. “You’ve been bad boys, haven’t you?”

Demyx flushes in spite of himself, summoning a few Dusks to surround Xigbar. It’s an empty threat – of course the Sharpshooter could rid himself of them in an instant, but it makes Demyx feel a little better.

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” Xigbar chuckles, leaping down to join them. He regards their ragtag group smugly. Demyx could do without ever seeing that expression again.

“You really shouldn’t have betrayed us,” he looks pointedly at Demyx, then rounds on Sora, “Roxas.” Xigbar leans down to pick the katar out of the floor, locking several of them together to form his guns.

“Wait!” Demyx cries, too late, running towards Sora.

“Gotcha now!” Xigbar cries, aiming at Sora. But Sora, acting fast, reflects them back, the beams of energy blasted back into the wall behind Xigbar.

“Sora, go!” Demyx puts a hand on his shoulder, gaze up at Xigbar. “You have to go help your friends.”

“But you’re our friend!” Donald cries.

Demyx chuckles, sparing a quick glance at each of Sora, Donald and Goofy. “You’re my friends too. Which is why I have to take care of Xigbar.”

Sora knows they can’t waste any time arguing over this. It’s plain in his sea-blue eyes. He nods, and motions with another nod to Donald and Goofy to follow him in the direction of Kairi and Riku, fighting the heartless off.

“Catch up with us?” he calls over his shoulder.

“You know it,” Demyx says, attention turned back to Xigbar, fingers poised in anticipation over Arpeggio.

* * *

“That’s _Sora!_ ” the voice echoes through The World That Never Was, and Demyx rounds corner after corner, following the voice.

His breath comes in short, quick breaths; his chest feels like it’s going to burst, but he has to catch up to the others before they get much further ahead. Demyx is running on nothing but the adrenaline from defeating Xigbar…somehow.

“You okay?” A girl’s voice. Good. Sora’s caught up to her.

Demyx skids past the last wall between them and his breath finally leaves him. He stops, heaving, bending at the waist until his head stops swimming. Finally, he can look up at everyone again. As the dark spots dance out of his vision, Demyx can see that everyone is alright: Sora, Donald and Goofy smile at him, and Kairi and Riku are there too, though they look warily at his cloak. _Fair enough_ , he supposes.

“I’m fine, Kairi,” Sora nods to her, catching Demyx’s eye to confirm the same for him. “You gonna make it, Demyx?”

Demyx nods, taking a deep breath, holding it, then letting it out slowly. He feels much better, though his heart still percusses dramatically against his chest. “Xigbar’s outta the picture.” Just barely, but that’s not something the others should worry about. They still have work to do.

“I can sense Saīx,” Riku says, glancing up in the direction they’re headed. “He’s using something to boost his power. If we can find the power source, we may be able to use it, too.”

“Kingdom Hearts,” Demyx hums, venturing a guess. “He and Xemnas were always so enamoured with it…”

They enter a room large enough to build a house in, standard for the strange and confusing architecture of The World of Never Was. Was it built to feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare all the time? Because that’s what it feels like, with the standard heart palpitations and sense of impending doom that come along with nightmares. At the other end of the room stands a figure, arms crossed behind his back as he stares through the windowpane that takes up an entire wall, up at Kingdom Hearts.

“Only you could have made it this far...Roxas. Demyx,” Saīx doesn't turn to look at them, gaze fixed on kingdom hearts as he summons his claymore.

“That's getting really old!” Sora exclaims, a snarl tugging at his lip. Demyx winces. He probably didn't help with that, did he?

“Yeah, he's Sora!” Donald calls, dropping into a fighting stance.

“Same name, different fate,” Saīx breathes, and he tilts his blade just so, the light of Kingdom Hearts glinting off of the razor-sharp edge. They only have a second's notice before he arcs the weapon through the air, revealing his true strength as the cleaver hits the floor with enough force to send Kairi and Riku skidding backwards.

“Do you feel it?” he snarls, looking up at Demyx and Sora with wild eyes. “The moon's power? If only...it would give me a heart. Superior...”

“You're wrong,” Demyx shakes his head, taking a tentative step forward to address his former coworker. “Xemnas can’t give us our hearts back, because we’re getting them back already. On our own. Saīx, can’t you feel it?”

Saīx snarls, lips pulled back to reveal teeth that grow steadily sharper as he speaks. “You’re wrong! If that were true, none of this ever would have happened!”

“We can still fight him! We can work together, and rebuild, without Xemnas’ vision. Without Kingdom Hearts.”

Saīx shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”

“You can’t believe that, can you? C’mon, what would Axel say?”

He regrets those words immediately.

Saīx sighs, and Demyx thinks, for a second, that he looks regretful. Resigned. When Saīx meets Demyx’s gaze again, his eyes are glowing – a yellow even more intense than usual. He growls, and his teeth are even sharper now, too big for his mouth. The light of Kingdom Hearts almost reflects off of his long, blue hair. He lunges forward, his claymore arching through the air – 

And everything goes black.


	6. Our Birth By Sleep

Everything hurts.

It would be funny, just how much, if it weren’t for the fact that it does, and his entire body aches with a dull throb in every joint – especially in his head. Demyx groans, reaching up to rub his temples in an attempt to ease the pressure.

He’s lying face-down, he can feel it in his chest, that telltale bubble closer to his back, and Demyx flips himself up carefully. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, hard and crusted. Who knows how long it’s been there, accumulating, after all? Gross. How can dying keep sucking even after you did it?

Wait, if he died (and he did, he remembers all too vividly), why is he able to think now? To feel the way his shoulders pop as he rolls them?

Finally, he’s able to open his eyes, blinks them easily, looks around. He’s deep underwater, the light from above barely making its way down, small and obscured by the tide, causing the light to dance across his face. And, though it feels like he takes an eternity taking it all in, each moment stretching on as he awakens from death itself, he immediately begins to panic, gasping and flailing and swallowing way too much water. Pushing, forcefully, upwards towards the surface, Demyx only notices something else is strange when he realizes he can’t feel his legs. He can’t feel the way his thighs should be brushing against each other, the way his ankles should be straining to remain locked.

That gives him pause, even in the midst of his alarm. Demyx looks down to see, first, his naked torso, but below that a tail, orange and aquamarine stripes wiggling lazily down to end in a fan-like flipper.

He hasn’t seen that in a long time.

Demyx slowly, carefully, breathes out, forces himself to cough, expelling some water from his lungs; he's going to have to make a conscious effort to only use his gills again. He flips his tail, pushing himself hard, fast, but not up. No, he swims to the side, somersaulting as he revels in the feeling of weightlessness. A bright, delighted laugh escapes his lips, muffled by the water just like he remembers.

Finally, after everything, he’s home.

Demyx swims back down, slowly, towards the ocean floor, taking in the familiar sights, the corals and anemones guiding him back to the well-travelled path nearby. The one he’d wandered not far off of before he’d…

Demyx shakes his head. No use thinking about that, now. It doesn’t matter.

He makes his way down the path and, despite a very concerted effort, finds himself frustratingly tense. Every little sound he hears, he jumps at, as if he’ll be attacked at any moment. And though the muted sounds are soothing – finally, everything isn’t so damn loud – he finds it hard to hear where things are coming from. Every sound seems to surround him, which only makes him start more easily. It doesn’t help that the waters are strangely devoid of people. It’s mid-morning, and yet he can’t see anyone nearby. Even the city is far enough away that it’s difficult to make out from here – so any shadowed silhouettes he may be able to see from closer are obscured by the stretch of water between here, and there.

Did something happen?

That thought spurs him on, faster, darting down the path with a renewed energy. Demyx ignores the sounds of the ocean life around him now, focusing on remembering which way his home is.

Finally, he reaches the entrance to the cavern, presses his forehead to the stone that constitutes as a door, lets out a stuttered breath. When he thinks he’s ready, Demyx raises his hand to knock, but is interrupted, cruelly, by the slippering, slimy feeling of the darkness. He shudders as he turns, blinking in surprise when he sees a series of heartless forming nearby.

“Oh – shit!” he curses under his breath, forgoing knocking in favour of just pushing the rock that serves as their front door out of the way and slipping inside before closing it behind him, listening against the boulder for any signs that he’s being followed.

“Who’s there?” a man’s voice echoes through the cavern, and Demyx whirls, waiting with bated breath as his father rounds the corner, frowning at the intrusion. When their eyes meet, there’s a pregnant pause between them, the tension in both sets of shoulders, both faces, releasing, until matching smiles complete the moment, and they collide into a tight embrace. He realizes, faintly, that if it weren’t for Sora, this would be the first hug he’d have had since he became a Nobody.

“Dad, I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Emyd…shh shh, my boy. I know. I know. It’s okay now.”

A gasp alerts him to the presence of his mother, coming around the corner as well, and soon he’s surrounded, squished from both sides between his parents. Demyx doesn’t care how old he is; right now, this is his favourite place in the worlds.

When they untangle themselves, Demyx ( _Emyd, right!_ ) is half-dragged to the living room, and they get comfortable as he gives a condensed version of what happened, of where he’s been all this time, of why now, of all times, he’s come home. Halfway through the story he wonders if he should have lied – should have kept the horrible truth a secret. But he doesn’t want to. So he continues without a second thought.

“But,” he pushes past the lump in his throat, “I can’t stay. Not right now.”

“Why?” his mother cries, reaching for him as if he’ll just disappear from before her eyes.

Demyx takes her hands, runs his thumbs over them as he explains. “The monsters outside… That’s why it’s so quiet, right?” They both nod. “The kid I mentioned – Sora – he’s working on making them go away. And since I…was separated from him, I’ve been out of the loop. But it’s clear he still needs help. My help.”

Whether or not that last part is true, he wouldn’t feel right, leaving Sora now. Not now that he’s in so deep. Not when he’d made a promise.

Demyx looks from his mother to his father, and back again. While they’ve certainly looked happier, there’s something in their eyes that he recognizes instantly. An emotion he had nearly forgotten about.

Pride.

“Emyd… If you need to help this boy get rid of the monsters, if you can lend yourself to that cause, how could we say no?” his father smiles. It looks difficult to maintain, but it’s genuine, and he puts his hands over his wife’s. “Just come home when you can. And maybe when all this is over, we can meet this Sora kid you clearly care so much about.”

“Yeah, I think he’d like that too,” Demyx nods, pulling his parents into another tight hug. “Just – let me stay here a couple of days. I don’t know if I have it in me to go just yet.”

“My baby, take as long as you need,” his mother says, brushing some hair out of his face before kissing his forehead.

“Thanks mom,” he says, quietly enough that even he can barely hear his voice break.

* * *

The next couple of days pass too quickly. The menial chores around the house fill the time, and while he isn't truly resting, it's not a routine he's used to anymore. It feels too slow, too mundane. Demyx itches to leave, even as he aches to stay.

Leaving the Organization hadn’t been hard. Not any harder than asking out a cute boy, or asking your boss for a raise. By the time he’d done it, Demyx had long since accepted the laundry list of consequences for defecting. And in any case, after watching how unhinged Axel had become after Roxas had left, he knew it couldn’t even come close to that hard for anyone, and so he decided to follow Roxas’ example – albeit for different reasons.

Leaving home, though, leaving his parents, after they’d waited so long for him to come home, after he’d fought so hard to get back… Leaving home is the hardest thing Demyx has ever done.

_Emyd_ , he reminds himself. He can use his real name again. Not that awful anagram he’d been assigned. It’s going to take some time, but it’s refreshing every time he hears his real name again, whether in his head or from someone saying it.

_I’m whole again. This is real._

Their extended family all get notice of his temporary return too, though with the heartless haunting the waters, the mail service is slowed to a crawl. He wishes he could go and see them, hug his aunties and uncles before joining the keybladers once again. But knowing them, knowing how loved he’d feel surrounded by his entire family, he’d never get away, couldn’t bear to, and that’s not a risk he’s willing to take right now.

They’ll have plenty of time to catch up when he comes home again. And he _will_ come home again.

After a long, anguished morning working his way up to it, Emyd kisses his mother and his father goodbye, and heads to his bedroom. The thick beaded curtain is heavy against his shoulder as he disappears from their view.

He’s struck with a thought, immediately upon finding himself alone: what if he can’t open a dark portal anymore? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until this moment – the last few years had let him grow accustomed to the ease at which he could travel between worlds. And even though using the corridors through the realm of darkness left him slicked with a cold sweat every time, he can’t deny that they made the work of the Organization much easier than if they had had to find some other way to traverse the worlds. They were certainly much more efficient than Sora’s Gummi Ship.

And even if he can travel through the corridors – it’ll be dangerous, without his cloak. Even though Xemnas and Saïx lied about a lot of things, Emyd could feel the building pressure of darkness whenever he used a corridor, even with his cloak protecting him. He could feel just how treacherous his journeys would have been without the garment.

He’s stalling.

Emyd breathes out slowly, through his nose (careful not to subsequently breathe in and get water in his lungs), holds his hand out in front of him, and gathers the dark energy around himself, ambient in the waters of Atlantica. Perhaps it’s harder now that he’s not a Nobody, perhaps it’s also harder because part of him doesn’t want to be able to do it. But soon enough the portal appears before him, dark purple and blue swirling menacingly in his childhood room.

If he woke up where he lost his heart, then it stands to reason that the others did as well.

He swallows, thickly, and flicks his tail, propelling him through the portal, before he can talk himself down again.


	7. Re: Unite

He flings himself out the other side of the dark corridor, panting with the exertion of pushing himself so hard through the darkness.

Yeah. He’ll definitely need another cloak if he plans on doing that ever again.

Emyd pushes himself up on his palms, slipping when he tries to stand. He looks down at himself and groans. His tail lays at the end of his torso, fat and useless on the cobblestone. 

“Really!?” He knows for a _fact_ that Sora had been to Atlantica, and that he had changed into a merman during his visits. So why isn’t Emyd changing back into a regularman when he comes to a dry world?

He can breathe through his lungs just fine though, which might be more difficult as his gills dry out, but he should have some time before that happens. As it stands, Emyd has time to find his old colleagues. If anyone will know how to get him some legs again, it’ll be Vexen and Zexion. So he supposes it’s a good thing he chose to travel to Radiant Garden first.

He’s laying, pathetically, on the ground outside a castle. He recognizes it; Emyd had seen it in the distance during his last visit, but there’d been no time to go visit properly. And it was in such a state of disrepair back then, it was probably really dangerous, too. It’s looking better now. Support beams and steel mesh cling to the outside where construction has clearly been happening. There’s no one working now, but it might be the weekend, or lunchtime.

Shit, he didn’t pack a lunch. He’s going to have to ask Vexen if they have anything in the fridge that’s safe to eat. 

So, with no idea as to what to do or where else to go, he starts pulling himself, pathetically, towards the castle’s entrance. His tail is almost entirely dead weight; his attempts at flopping it around to help – a pathetic mimicry of how it would push him through the water – only end up with Emyd flailing awkwardly and forcing him to roll over onto his back with the force of it. So, he accepts that it’s arm day, and begins the long haul towards – hopefully – lunch.

He shakes his head. Vexen and Zexion. He’s looking for _them_. _Not_ lunch. Well – yes, he _is_ looking for lunch, but – wow this is a stupid argument. That he’s having with _himself_ , of all people.

As he’s shaking his head and grumbling, he nearly smacks into a pair of legs that have appeared in front of him. Emyd looks up, straining at the sharp angle, and can’t for the life of him see the head at the top. Wow. That’s a very tall man.

“Um, hello up there?” he calls, waving. “Any chance you can give me a hand?”

“Demyx?” the deep voice calls down at him, rumbling low in the air. The man backs up and a familiar set of dreadlocks finally lowers itself into Emyd’s field of view.

“Xaldin! Boy, I never thought I’d be so excited to see you.”

He raises a very thick brow at that. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you! Well, no, actually, not _you_ , specifically. I’m looking for you _guys_ , but Vexen and Zexion in particular.”

“Why?”

Emyd just raises an eyebrow of his own, and gestures dramatically down at his tail. “I’m in a predicament that only science can fix.”

“I guess you are,” Xaldin hums, then bends over and hoists Emyd over his shoulder effortlessly (well, not quite effortlessly, but Emyd’s tail is much heavier than his legs were, so it’s likely that Xaldin just hadn’t adjusted for the difference). Emyd barely catches himself before his nose smacks into Xaldin’s back as the man starts towards the castle. “I figure you can’t get into much trouble like this. That’s the _only_ reason I’m taking you to them.”

“And _not_ because of my boyish good looks, got it,” Emyd winks, snickering when he’s met with that annoyed deadpan Xaldin was always so known for. “Oh, hey,” Emyd starts again, and the deadpan breaks just for a moment, swerving decidedly into _annoyed_ before he regains composure, “I don’t think I know your real name. Are you going by it? Or are you guys all using our old names? What’s the consensus on that?”

“Old ones. And no, I never told you,” the-man-formerly-known-as-Xaldin says, taking a moment before answering the main question. “Dilan. My name is Dilan.”

Emyd grins, extending a hand awkwardly between their bodies, towards Dilan’s free one to shake. “Emyd. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Dilan.”

There’s another moment, that exasperated consideration, before Dilan takes Emyd’s hand, (thank the gods, it was just about to fall off) gives it two careful, but professional pumps, and lets go, flicking from his elbow a few times to get the water off.

“How are you still sopping wet?”

Emyd offers a shrug and a sheepish smile as his only answer, leaving Dilan to roll his eyes and begin the trek up the stairs. It doesn’t take them long to get to the castle, what with Dilan’s powerful stride, and with Emyd remaining pointedly quiet so as not to get thrown to the ground in frustration.

He doesn’t actually know if that would happen, but he doesn’t really want to test it. Self-preservation has always been at the top of Emyd’s list of priorities, and he and Xaldin were never anywhere near the definition of ‘close’, so he can’t take a guess as to how short Dilan’s temper actually is. Part of Emyd wants to think he’s secretly a huge teddy bear on the inside. But, again, he figures he’s taking enough chances for a lifetime right now. No need to tempt fate.

They enter the castle, taking a series of twists and turns that Emyd makes no effort to remember. If he needs to figure out the layout of the place again later, he can do it when he’s not craning his neck, or being jostled by Dilan’s footsteps. _Finally_ , they come to a stop, and Dilan raps on what must be a door in front of him, three evenly timed _knock, knock knock_ s.

“Enter,” a familiar voice echoes through the wood. He would recognize that high cadence and breathy, distracted, deep-in-thought tone anywhere.

Dilan opens the door, holding up his free hand in what must be a wave. “Hey. We have a problem.”

The shuffling noises – _experiment noises_ , they must be – stop, and Emyd can almost feel multiple pairs of eyes staring directly at his ass (not that it’s in ass form at the moment, but the sentiment remains).

“You…caught a big fish? Where in the worlds…?”

Emyd supposes none of his human skin can be seen from Vexen’s angle, though Dilan turns around immediately to show them the rest of him.

Emyd hoists himself up to see Vexen and Zexion, staring at him in awe. If only he had a camera on him – he’d love to save this moment forever.

“Hey guys! Miss me?”

“Not in particular,” Vexen manages, blinking and waving at Zexion to clear off a desk, which he does, hurriedly. “Here, Dilan, put him here,” Vexen continues, moving out of the way so Emyd can be placed on the cleared surface. He’s still pretty slippery; he grabs onto the edges with his hands, so he doesn’t slide around and get water on anything important.

“What happened?” Zexion asks, stepping close to Emyd suddenly, examining the point where his tail meets his hip. He doesn’t touch, though, which Emyd is grateful for. Not that he would mind, it would just be rude.

“Dunno,” Dilan responds before Emyd can. “I found him on the ground outside, crawling pathetically towards the castle. He said he’s looking for you guys.”

“Oh?” Zexion looks up at Emyd. He still has one of his eyes hidden behind his hair, but it twinkles in a way it hadn’t before. His curiosity (and he is curious, understandably, Emyd supposes) is less cold than it had been when they were Nobodies. He’s grateful for that.

“Oh!” he echoes, a finger whipping up to point at Zexion and Vexen in turn. “Yes! Right! Dilan says everyone’s using old names again. I’m Emyd, and, um, I don’t know yours.”

“Even,” it’s said with a tight frown as Emyd’s hand-flailing splashes some water directly onto Even’s lab coat.

It earns a soft chuckle from Zexion, and Emyd blinks in, well, _shock_ , looking at Zexion, aware of how dumbfounded he looks.

“Are you _smiling_?”

That earns him a true smile, genuine and soft, and Emyd is worried, for a second, that the next words out of Zexion’s mouth are going to be _I have to kill you now_.

“I seem to be doing quite a bit of that lately, don’t I?” he turns, briefly, to address Even, though he returns his gaze to Emyd before the rhetorical question can be answered. “I suppose I have more to be chipper about than Zexion ever did. Oh, of course,” he’s brought back to the inquiry at hand, “my apologies. My name is Ienzo.”

Before Emyd can flash his winning smile, Even interrupts, clearing his throat loud, pointedly. To the point that he might as well just say _Ahem_. “I think the question we’re all wondering, presently, is why you are in this form. Please, elaborate.”

He ends up having to tell them everything that happened since they’d died in Castle Oblivion, if only to curb Even’s incessant need to interrupt asking for clarification, rushing through the unimportant bits (and some of the important bits, which Even forces him to slow down and detail a little more, when necessary). Turns out, they’d heard he was working with Sora at one point, from Sora himself, which thankfully means less exposition for Emyd to detail.

Aeleus joins them at some point, bringing damp towels and a water bottle to keep him hydrated while he lays on the table. Maybe he’s the big softie of the two giants? He should stay on Dilan’s good side after all, it seems.

“I figured that, if I woke up in Atlantica, most of you guys would have woken up in Radiant Garden. Which meant that my best bet of finding someone to get me in contact with Sora again was here, too. So I opened a dark corridor and came on over. Didn’t realize I’d be stuck with my tail when I got here, though.”

“You used a dark corridor without a cloak!?” Even nearly shoots steam out of his ears, voice raising a good octave in disbelief. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that is!?”

“Of course I do! But I don’t exactly have another way of travelling between the worlds, do I? Not everyone can be from somewhere with as much keyblade wielder traffic as Radiant Garden. And it’s not like there’s any way I could have gotten a hold of you guys from Atlantica.”

“Not for the time being, no,” Ienzo agrees, and Emyd smiles. At least _someone_ is on his side. There’s a glint in his eye. A science-y glint. Emyd wonders just what he’s got up his sleeve. “Lea was here before,” Ienzo continues, “but he left. I didn't catch just where he was headed. We were still getting our bearings at the time.”

“Right...” So, Lea’s around somewhere too. Maybe he's looking for Sora as well. After their…parting...he must be anxious to find Sora – and Roxas – again. “So you’re gonna get me some legs, right?” he changes the subject back to something important, and flips the fan of his tail, thumping the heavy muscle against the table insistently. The table creaks in protest. He reluctantly stops thumping.

“We will certainly try,” Ienzo hums, “though I think this may require a magical solution, rather than a scientific one. I cannot think of a way we could help, on our own.” Even nods behind him, confirming.

“We should get in touch with the…creatures…from Disney Town. They may be able to get in contact with someone who can help,” Even purses his lips, disdain evident across his face.

* * *

As it happens, the “creatures” that Even mentioned are a pair of chipmunks. The name of their world sounds familiar, but Emyd doesn’t place it until they mention that Donald is actually the one that takes care of Sora’s form changes.

Of course. Disney Town is Donald, Goofy, and King Mickey’s home world. 

The chipmunks – Chip and Dale (he’s unsure if anyone else finds their names _eerily similar_ to…something else. But no one mentions it, so he keeps carefully silent) – say they’ll get in contact with Sora, he hears the click of some sort of button (Emyd knows his buttons, okay? He loves a good button) and the light static coming through the speaker cuts off. Emyd taps it curiously before looking over to Ienzo.

“I guess we just wait, then?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Ienzo hums. “Why don’t we get you into some water, in the meantime. You’re starting to look a little dehydrated.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s not surprising,” he feels dry, now that it’s been mentioned. “It usually takes a couple hours to be dangerous, though.”

“Well, let’s not take any risks. There’s a decent bathroom in the back of the castle, if you don’t mind the trip, Dilan,” Ienzo looks up, all but batting his eyelashes in a silent plead.

“Don’t you have a gurney or something somewhere?” he sighs heavily.

They do, in fact, have a gurney somewhere: in the back. Even seems a little too excited when they inquire after it, and visibly deflates when they explain what it’s for. But either way, it does the trick. Dilan rests him on it, kinder than Emyd had expected, and leaves, they can only assume to resume his guard duties.

Ienzo and Emyd, then, remain alone, and Ienzo wheels him down the halls. The wheels are loud, echoing through the halls and making conversation difficult. But it’s been a long day. A long few days, really, and Emyd, for once, doesn’t feel the need to fill the relative silence with whatever mindless drivel he can conjure up.

Zexion was always someone he liked being alone in the common room with, before. He would read usually, take notes often; and Emyd could pluck out a tune, hum the melody as he found it, and they could spend some easy time that way for hours, so long as they weren’t interrupted.

The walk down the long corridors of the castle are reminiscent of those times, and Emyd wonders if Ienzo feels the same way. It seems, oddly, too intimate a question to ask.

They reach what _must_ be the back of the castle (they’ve been walking for almost five minutes! Just how big _is_ this thing!?) and Ienzo uses the gurney to push open a pair of swinging doors, then another a few feet ahead.

Through the second set of doors – the space between acting as some sort of barrier between this room and the castle proper – is an indoor garden. It’s enormous. Emyd nearly has to crane his neck to see the ceiling. Tropical plants cling to the walls, ivy and vines creeping around every available surface: the walls and the columns, as well as doing their best to keep their hold on the ceiling itself. A handful of clear pools are scattered around the floor, all connected with streams of varying depths – some meant to be swam between, some simply meant to circulate the water. It looks just like a natural spring except, where there should be dirt and trees, there’s marble. White, mostly, but full of swirls of brown and olive, like a forest floor. And even though the water is flowing, continuous, the plants must be soaking up much of the noise, as there’s no echo in this room like there is in the rest of the expansive castle.

“I have so many questions,” is all he can breathe, aware that he’s catching flies.

“Ask away. I may be able to answer some,” Ienzo chuckles when Emyd shakes his head, waving off the offer. Ienzo winds the gurney through the room, over artfully uneven tiling, to the lap pool near the back. He lines it up with the edge, looking from Emyd to the pool and back again with a slight frown.

Emyd rocks from side to side, experimentally, and the gurney tries to roll away beneath him, only stopped by Ienzo’s foot catching one of the wheels in time. “Maybe we should have gotten Dilan to come with us after all,” Emyd chuckles softly.

“Perhaps. Do you mind if I – well, if I touch you?”

“Not at all,” Emyd smiles. “You have a plan?”

“I believe so. Sit up, please.” Emyd does as he’s told, carefully swinging his tail over the side so he can sit on the edge of the cool metal, facing the pool. Ienzo reaches behind him, almost shyly, hooking an arm under Emyd’s armpits. The other arm reaches under the midway joint of his tail, as if he’s going to attempt a bridal carry. He hesitates.

“I am…not very strong, I admit.”

“Just try not to drop me too hard.”

“I’ll try,” Ienzo smiles a little, and Emyd returns it.

“Alright, one… Two, _three_.”

Ienzo pushes, more than lifts, and Emyd is able to springboard off of his arms a little. The wheels of the gurney creak as it’s pushed backwards with the force of his jump. He lands in the cool water rather unceremoniously, making a huge, frankly embarrassing, splash. But he manages not to bang any of his limbs on the tiled side of the pool, which was his main goal.

Emyd swims around in the pool, letting out a sigh of relief as water works its way between his scales. It’s freshwater, which he isn’t as used to, but there aren’t any chemicals in it either. Sure enough, fish, shrimp and the occasional frog join him underwater, doing their job of keeping the water clean.

When he finally surfaces, Emyd whips his hair out of his face and grins up at Ienzo, blinking the fresh water (which stings his eyes just a little) out of his eyes and swimming up to the edge of the pool. Ienzo is thoroughly soaked, his labcoat translucent and dripping, hanging off his narrow frame limply.

Carefully peeling the garment off of himself, Ienzo steps up to the edge of the water, dropping the cloth to the floor with a wet _schlop_.

“You feel better, I presume?”

“Heh, yeah,” Emyd shrugs, sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” there’s that smile again. “It’s only water.”

Emyd only hums in response, not really sure what else to say. Ienzo sits on the edge of the pool, crossing his legs, and the two consider each other for a long moment.

“Don’t have to get back to Even?” he finally asks.

“Not so quickly, no. I’m no longer a child; he doesn’t keep constant watch over me the way he used to.”

“That must be nice.”

“It is. I am grateful for his trust in me.”

“Or maybe he’s just confident in his own prowess as your teacher,” Emyd chuckles, teasing.

“Yes, perhaps,” Ienzo smirks. “I suppose I cannot begrudge him that – I have learned a lot from him over the years, and endeavour to continue doing so for the foreseeable future. Even has remained the only consistency in my life, as long as I can remember.”

“As long as you can remember?” Emyd cocks his head, brow furrowing. “Don’t you remember your past? Even if you hadn’t as Zexion, I assumed you would have remembered when you regained your heart recently.”

“I do remember, yes. I always did,” Ienzo hums, looking away, eyes focusing on the far wall of the baths. “He found me, when I was a child. I was very young – maybe a year or two. He says I had the telltale signs of one who’d been adrift in darkness about my complexion, whatever that means,” he laughs quietly. “That it was clear I had been in danger – whether my home world was swallowed by darkness, or I had gotten lost in it somehow, we still don’t know. But he took me in, all but raised me as his own son. I’ve known no family but he and Aeleus.”

It takes Emyd a few long, awkward moments before he can close his jaw and shake the bewildered expression from his face. “Holy shit. Uh… That’s heavy, dude.”

“It is… My apologies, I didn’t mean to put such a thing on you.”

“No! No, nothing like that. I guess, what I mean to say,” _way to put your tail in your mouth, idiot_ , “is that I’m sorry. That sounds really rough.”

“I had…an interesting childhood, I suppose you could say. Not made any less so when we became Nobodies. But I don’t know anything else. I was too young to retain any memories of my original family, if I would have remembered them in any case, but I was well taken care of, given an education.”

“But were you loved?”

The question escapes Emyd’s mouth before he can stop himself, and he has to resist the urge to slap a hand over his traitorous lips. 

“Sorry! No, that’s so rude, I’m so sorry.” He waves his hands in front of his face in a desperate attempt to diffuse the comment.

Ienzo, to his credit, doesn’t look angry, or offended. If anything, he looks surprised, and characteristically pensive. “Please, don’t be sorry,” he says. “I imagine you had a relatively normal childhood, Emyd?”

“As normal as can be, I guess,” he hums. “I had my mom and dad, and no siblings of my own, but enough cousins to more than make up for it. Everyone was always getting together for meals and holidays. It was…normal, for a big family.”

Ienzo nods. “Perhaps it’s only natural that you would wonder if I experienced the love you certainly had, as well,” he looks back to Emyd, a big, warm, close-lipped smile accentuating just how round his cheeks are. Ienzo sits by the edge of the water, leaning over to pull his shoes and socks off. “I did, though. Aeleus was more…affectionate, I suppose, though Even was always encouraging, and kind. I never wanted for anything. Including love.”

“Right, of course. Again, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to…assume, I guess. Vexen – Even – never struck me as…like that.”

“I don’t think you have anything to apologize for. But, thank you,” Ienzo smiles again, softer this time. He rolls the hems of his pants up, cuffing them halfway up his calves. Emyd, for lack of anything to say (a rare moment, certainly), watches, transfixed, as Ienzo swings to the side and dips his feet into the pool, getting comfortable.

It seems he plans on staying awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys TT_TT I've been so excited to post this chapter. I've been so excited to share the beautiful art that Nerro did for me <3 Thank you so much for being my Rogue Nebula partner, and for sticking with me since the Big Bang. I love your art and I love this piece and just cannot stop gushing. It's my phone background and everything. Seriously, the tail is exactly how I pictured it, the expressions on everyone's faces are perfect. The little bits of scales on his shoulders... I'm so in love.
> 
> This piece can be found here: https://nerroart.tumblr.com/post/190517981810/i-think-its-time-to-finally-post-this-work-that  
> Go check out the rest of Nerro's work!


	8. 3T: Transition Takeoff Transform

“Demyx!”

Two familiar voices call out in unison, loud and clear even with the static coming through the speakers in Even’s office.

“I can’t believe it, Demyx. Who’d’a thunk you weren’t dead after all!”

“Yeah! We thought you were a goner, for sure.”

“Are ya okay?” Goofy asks, voice suddenly much louder, and more distorted.

“Please back away from the microphone,” Even sighs, rubbing his temple.

“Oh, sorry,” Goofy says, the edge of sheepishness in his voice doing nothing to curb his enthusiasm, and his voice goes back to a normal volume, becoming clearer. “But Demyx, what happened?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” Emyd shrugs. He figures the whole name explanation can be saved for later. “I did die… But I woke up on Atlantica – my homeworld – as if nothing had happened. And I guess Even and Ienzo did too, ‘cause I found ‘em here, no problem.”

“Do you think the others are okay, too, somewhere?” Goofy’s voice is quiet; he’s clearly talking to Donald, but whether or not he’s trying to keep his question from the former-Nobodies, they can hear him no problem.

“Which others?” Even asks, clearly not caring if he was supposed to hear the question.

“What about that guy who was keeping Kairi captive?” Donald asks, his raspy voice quieting in thought.

“He seemed pretty dangerous,” Goofy agrees. “What if he’s back?”

“Saīx.” Emyd hums. “If he’s back, we could be in serious trouble.”

“You said you all woke up on your original world… So where would he have woken up?”

“Here,” Even hums. “Isa and Lea were from Radiant Garden as well.”

“Well, have you seen him?” Donald asks.

“Not Isa, no,” Even says. “Ienzo saw Lea leaving, but he didn’t say where he was going. Presumably to look for Isa,” he sounds bored. This is clearly not a topic Even finds particularly interesting.

“Lea is Axel,” Emyd explains to Donald and Goofy. “I bet after everything, he’d be willing to help out. If we can find him.”

“Well I guess we gotta just keep an eye out for him,” Goofy hums, glancing over at Donald.

“In any case,” Donald says, “we can come get you, Demyx. Sora’s busy, so we’ve been stuck at Yen Sid’s. I’m going crazy!”

“Yeah, we sure could use some time away,” Goofy laughs.

“Wait – Sora’s busy? With what?”

“Well, he and Riku are taking the Mark of Mastery exam,” Goofy says. “It’s a big deal for those keyblade wielders. Kinda like a black belt, I guess.”

“A – what?” Emyd cocks his head in confusion.

“A black belt! It’s a rank you earn in high level martial arts. Means you’re real good at fightin’!” he laughs, clearly excited to explain. “I’d be happy to show ya mine, if we ever get the chance.”

* * *

It only takes a few hours for the Gummi Ship to touch down in the courtyard outside the castle, but it feels like it takes all afternoon. Emyd wishes he could meet them outside, but instead he’s subjected to waiting impatiently in Even’s office, on the accursed gurney. And, when they finally greet him, their faces fall in a mixture of horror and confusion.

“What happened to you?” Donald cries.

They both rush over to make sure he’s alright, which Emyd appreciates, but it’s definitely embarrassing.

“This is just…my true form, I guess,” he says, frowning at the weird phrasing even as he says it. “I’m from Atlantica, like I said. And when I used a dark corridor to get here, I didn’t change.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t change!” Donald rolls his eyes. “Why did you think you would?”

“Sora does! He _told_ me he gets a tail when he goes to Atlantica. So, I figured that I’d lose mine when I left…”

“No, you dummy,” Donald starts, but then Goofy frowns down at him and nudges his shoulder a little, like _Be nice_. “It’s my magic that changes Sora whenever we need to blend in,” Donald continues, voice a little softer now.

“Oh,” Emyd hums, sighing. “But that means you can give me legs, right? Can you just do the same sorta magic that you use on Sora?”

“I sure can,” Donald nods, pulling out his staff and waving it around a little.

“Wait! Wait,” Even calls, the interruption bringing a pronounced frown to Emyd’s face. “Here, cover up,” he hands Emyd a towel.

“Oh, yeah I guess that makes sense,” he acquiesces, placing the towel over his lap.

The disruption over, Donald doesn’t waste any time casting the spell.

A wave of heat washes over Emyd, starting from the tip of his tailfin – much like he’s sitting dangerously close to a fire – and washing up his tail from there. It doesn’t stop at his hips, where the scales do, but licks up against his stomach and lower back like flame itself. It turns his stomach like he’s lost sense of direction, but it feels oddly comforting at the same time. The upper-tail muscles spasm and he jerks them in opposite directions with a wet _pop_. Looking down in alarm at the noise, he sees a familiar pair of pale, hairy legs where his tail had been.

Holding the towel tightly over himself, he steps, carefully, off of the gurney, testing the way his feet and toes flex to remain standing as he eases into balancing himself on them. He remembers getting used to the sensation the first time he found himself with legs, and thankfully it’s much easier to settle into the feeling this time around.

“Thank you!” Emyd grins as he ties the towel around his waist. When he’s sure it’s not going anywhere, he pulls Donald and Goofy into a tight hug, one arm around each of their necks. “I missed you guys!”

“We missed you too, Demyx!” Goofy laughs.

He can feel Even’s eyes boring into the back of his neck, calculating, judgmental. The sound of shuffling papers echoes between the former nobodies, and Emyd looks back at Even. He catches a glint of curiosity, too, before they look away from each other.

“Actually, I’m not Demyx anymore,” he says. “We’re not nobodies, so we’re using our real names again.”

“ _We_?” Donald echoes, cocking his head in confusion.

“Oh yeah, all of us. There’s Even here, and Dilan, Aeleus and Ienzo should be around here somewhere. And you can call me Emyd!”

“Well, it’s nice ta meet’cha, Emyd!”

“Heh, thanks.”

“I thought we saw all of the Organization before,” Goofy hums, looking past Emyd, presumably to Even behind him. “But I don’t recognize ya.”

“You wouldn’t, no,” Even says. “It’s…rather a long story. Wouldn’t do to get caught up in the details.”

“He’s weird, ignore him,” Emyd waves a hand in dismissal. “C’mon, I’ve gotta get some pants, then you have to fill me in on everything!”

* * *

He’s missed a lot, it seems.

He knows it’s stupid, but it hurts, knowing so much has happened since he disappeared. They thought he was dead. _He_ thought he was dead! They had to keep fighting. The agents of darkness aren’t going to defeat themselves, after all. But…

It would have been nice to hear they’d taken the time to mourn him.

Emyd lets Donald and Goofy round the corner ahead of him to the square where the Gummi Ship is parked, shakes his head violently, where they can’t see, and tries to put it out of his mind.

He turns, to take one last look at the castle behind him – who knows when he’ll be back, after all – and starts, just about smacking his head into the brick wall he’d been hiding behind. Ienzo backs up as well, eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nah, nah, it’s good. It’s all good. I just… Didn’t expect you there. You’re so quiet.”

“I’ve been accused of that before, yes,” Ienzo smiles softly. “I came to wish you luck.”

“Luck?” Emyd cocks his head a little. “Really?”

“Yes. I – well, I suppose it’s a bit silly. But I know you’re taking a risk, by teaming up with the wielders of light. And the darkness they’re facing is much worse than Xemnas ever was. I just…” he trails off, sighing. “I hope you’ll be careful.”

Emyd’s smile mirrors the one Ienzo had held just a moment ago: patient, and grateful, and just a little amused. “I will. As much as I can, at least.”

Ienzo nods, and the wind picks up as the Gummi Ship’s engines roar to life, drowning out any further conversation they may have. Ienzo’s long hair whips around his face, try as he might to get it under control. For the first time, Emyd can see both of his eyes.

“ – later!” is all Emyd hears, so he nods, giving a thumbs up.

“Yeah, later!”


	9. Playing Catchup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to preface this by saying that this was one of my very favourite chapters to write, and it's dedicated to my musical Miescha in particular <3

Donald and Goofy try explaining to him just what Sora and Riku are doing, in the dream world, but even with Goofy’s black belt example, the exact nature of their mission remains elusive. And when they arrive at the Mysterious Tower, and he meets the creepy, retired keyblade master who lives there, that guy’s explanation doesn’t make any sense either.

Just as the group decides it’s not worth their time trying to explain the minute details of the Mark of Mastery thing to Emyd, the door behind them opens, and he turns, curious to know who else is here. He hadn’t seen anyone else on the way up.

“Axel – I mean – Lea?” he blinks. He had referred to the man as 'Lea' to their colleagues in Radiant Garden, and hadn't been corrected, but no one had confirmed for him, either. Emyd hopes Axel is on-board with the switch everyone else has seemed to agree upon.

Luckily, the man’s face lights up, usually-wicked smile bright and genuine. “Hey! You got it memorized!”

“Of course!” Emyd grins back, turning to clasp Lea’s hand in camaraderie. “Glad to see you’re alright, after everything.”

“I can say the same to you. Emyd, right?” Emyd nods, his question answered. “You gotta tell me how it went down, after… Yeah. After.”

So, Emyd sits on the steps to Yen Sid’s tower, leaning back on his elbows, and explains, with as much detail as he thinks Lea will want, just what happened after they had lost him. As Emyd talks, Lea works through a sword form, using a crude wooden keyblade to repeat the form over and over as Emyd speaks. The fluid way he wields the weapon is reminiscent of the way he used his chakrams, firm but loose at the same time. A _flurry_ indeed.

“So Even helped me contact Donald and Goofy, and they took me here,” he says. “Lea… Are you really training to become a keyblade wielder?”

Lea breaks from his motion to point at the practice weapon in his other hand, raising a brow. “What do you think this is for?”

“Well – I guess I thought you had to be chosen, to get a keyblade. But you just decided on your own.”

“I guess there’re multiple ways to get one. I just said I wanted to, and to be honest, I fully expected them to laugh in my face. But no one seemed concerned that it wouldn’t work, just that I don’t have much time to actually be of use. So Yen Sid and the fairies are using magic to help speed up my training process.”

“And why are you using a wooden keyblade?”

“Haven’t been able to summon mine, yet. But they say I’ll get there,” Lea smirks, back straightening in what Emyd immediately picks up on as faux confidence. But he doesn’t say anything, Lea has never liked having his insecurities pointed out. And they’re nowhere near close enough for it to be appropriate anyway.

“Hey,” Lea interrupts Emyd’s thoughts. “Why don’t you ask if you can train, too? Can’t hurt to have more wielders on the scene, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Emyd laughs. “I’m not interested in that much work. I’d prefer to help the way I have been, then retire afterwards. The life of a keyblade wielder sounds too hectic to me.”

Lea snorts, shaking his head. “Typical,” he says, affectionately. “Can you still do magic? Since you got your heart back?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno,” Emyd shrugs. “I haven’t tried yet. Besides, I don’t have my sitar anymore.”

“Kinda important to know, don’t you think?” Lea raises an eyebrow, ever sardonic. “Did you need it?”

“Didn’t need it, no, but it helped focus the energy. Was it not like that with your chakrams?”

“Maybe,” it’s Lea’s turn to shrug, and he purses his lips pensively. “I never really thought about it. And not having them around certainly didn’t stop me from using fire magic… I mean, you’ve got some time before Sora and Riku wake up, maybe you could find an instrument in the meantime… Hey! Maybe the fairies could even imbue it with magic for you!”

“The fairies that are helping you train? That’s not a bad idea,” Emyd hums. “Any chance you wanna go shopping with me?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Lea tosses the wooden weapon over his shoulder, grinning. “I thought you’d never ask!”

* * *

Donald and Goofy refuse to lend them the Gummi Ship (“Did you really think they would when you used the word ‘joyride’, Lea!?”), but they do agree to give them a lift. It seems they really are bored while Sora’s asleep, and Mickey is off doing his own thing, too.

Lea requests they go to a place called Traverse Town, and it’s a short flight until they’re touching down outside a set of enormous wooden doors. The group steps out into the quaint cobblestone plaza, and Donald and Goofy wave goodbye, off to keep themselves busy.

“So where are we going?” Emyd looks around at the high wooden buildings. It looks like it used to be a little community, but some of the houses have been converted into businesses with bright neon lights flashing on the windows. A restaurant sits nearby, the smell of cooking wafting through the square pleasantly. 

“Traverse Town’s the place people end up if their worlds get swallowed by the darkness,” Lea says, starting off towards the road. “So I figure, if anywhere’s sure to have a variety of strange instruments for you to pick from, it’s here.”

“Hey! Sitars aren’t strange,” Emyd protests, falling into step beside Lea.

“Dude, they are. No offence.”

“Well I’m _very_ offended.”

Lea shrugs, looking sideways at Emyd with a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. Emyd sighs and rolls his eyes, letting himself be led into a place he doesn’t quite catch the name of as they enter (that’s what he gets for zoning out, he supposes).

“Welcome!” a squeaky voice calls from behind the counter, and when his eyes adjust to the florescent lighting, Emyd sees three small ducks standing there, grinning expectantly. They look awfully familiar. “What can we help you with today?”

“Uh, hey there,” Emyd says, approaching the counter, behind which all of their merchandise is kept. Most of it is pretty small – earrings and charms – but there are some weapons lining the walls behind the counter as well. “I’m looking for a…musical instrument? Do you guys carry any of those?”

They shake their heads in unison.

“You’re better off looking in the second district.”

“Yeah, the second district’s got a lot more shops.”

“If you head ‘round back you’ll find it easy enough.”

“Okay, thanks for the advice,” Emyd offers a smile and a wave before turning to go, Lea trailing behind him. They follow the sparse directions they were offered, and it isn’t hard to find the doorway through to the third district. They emerge into a more urban area, with bright neon signs advertising all sorts of products and services, with a large cobblestone square sat in the centre.

“Hopefully one of these will have what we’re looking for,” Lea hums.

“I thought you wanted to come, huh?” Emyd teases. “Bored already?”

Lea laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, you got me. I’ll zip it on the complaining.”

They find their way through from there to the second district easily enough. Emyd had worried that the directions they had been provided were too sparse, but it turns out that it’s just that easy to find their way. The former nobodies walk down one side of the road, skimming the signs for various businesses as they meander by.

“I never got the chance to ask, before,” Lea starts, “but I have to ask – what made you join Sora and the others, back then? You had to have known it would end badly for you.”

“I could ask the same of you, you know,” Emyd says before considering his words. He’s deflecting, and a sideways glance at Lea makes it clear that he knows that. Emyd shrugs. “I know why you did it. I knew at the time, too. Even if everyone pretended that we didn’t have hearts, that you were acting irrationally, I knew.”

Lea nods like he’s saying _thank you_. “But you had different reasons. Obviously.”

_He’s right. I didn’t have Roxas. Not like you did. No one had Roxas like you did._

“Yeah I – I told you, at the time, that I just didn’t want to die for no reason. And I guess that’s true. Well, it wasn’t a lie, at least.”

“You know as well as I do that lies and untruths are often the same thing.”

Emyd chuckles softly, nodding. “Yes. Well, I guess… I was tired. Tired of being tired. I didn’t see a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I didn’t see forming Kingdom Hearts ending in anything but disaster. I didn’t trust anyone, and I didn’t want to. Couldn’t risk it. I figured, if I could take the chance of trusting anyone, it was the person who had no idea what the organization was up to. Sora didn’t even really understand why we were going after him until I started tagging along.”

Lea laughs. “I guess we had the same thought, if for different reasons.”

“There’s something about that kid,” Emyd agrees. “Watching him fight gave me the motivation I needed to do the right thing.”

“He did that for me too, in a way.”

They share a look, at once appraising and accepting, and fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a first for Emyd.

It doesn’t take long for a music store to catch his eye ( _‘Scat Cat’s Instrument Emporium’. A bit obvious, but easy to find at least_ ), and they make their way inside. A small bell rings above them when the door opens, cheerful and welcoming.

“Well well well, welcome to Scat Cat’s!” a voice calls from somewhere behind the counter. There are rows of shelves extending to the back wall, lined with boxes of all sizes. From what Demyx can see, they’re full of mouthpieces, reeds, picks, and other various and sundry inventory items. As the owner of the voice can be heard approaching the front of the store, Demyx looks around at the instruments showcased – stringed ones hanging from the walls, woodwind in glass display cases beneath.

“It’s beautiful,” he sighs, running a hand along the rim of a cello. The red poplar wood is warm beneath his fingertips. It’s as if the instrument is humming at his touch. That might just be Emyd that’s humming, though.

“Why thank you,” the voice finally appears – a fat, black cat climbs up on the counter, grinning at him proudly. “Anything I can help you fine gentlemen find today?”

“I’m looking for something that…speaks to me,” Emyd says, pulling away from the cello. He marks it as a solid ‘maybe’ in his head. “I played the sitar for a long time. You wouldn’t happen to have one of those, would you?”

“No, not on hand, unfortunately,” the cat – Scat Cat, Emyd assumes – hums, frowning in apology. “Though if it’s strings you’re lookin’ for, I should introduce you to my esteemed colleague. My speciality is of a more…brassy nature,” he winks, and turns his head to the back. “BILLY. CUSTOMER,” he calls.

“No need shout, Scat Cat,” Billy shouts back, and from the shelves emerges another cat, larger, even, than Scat Cat, and grey. His fur looks so soft, but his squinted face makes Emyd think twice about trying to pet him. “Billy Boss, at your service,” he introduces himself once he gets to the counter. “You need strings, yes?”

“Uh – yeah. Scat Cat said you don’t have any sitars?”

Billy shakes his head sadly. “You are man of good taste. But no, sitar does not sell. We can special order, if you like?”

“How long will that take?” Lea asks. “We’re on a bit of a time crunch, actually.”

“Cannot rush music,” Billy shakes his head. “Two weeks.”

“While I agree,” Emyd sighs, “this is a special circumstance, unfortunately. Two weeks might be too long. Can you show me anything similar you might recommend? I’ve played some cello and guitar.”

“All have less strings,” Billy shakes his head, coming around the counter and leading them back to the instruments hanging from the wall. “Many less strings.” He seems to ponder the options on the wall silently. Emyd examines them too. And whereas Billy simply stares at the wall, crossing and un-crossing his arms in thought, Emyd is touching them, stroking them, plucking them.

“You have good ear. Pluck chords unlike most.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Billy looks up at Emyd, and Emyd looks down at Billy.

“I know just instrument for you. Wait here.”

Emyd does as he’s told, continuing to idly test the merchandise as they wait. He can hear Lea getting impatient on the other side of the room. The tapping of fingers on glass, the shuffling of arms, betrays his boredom. Emyd could stay here forever.

He hears a wooden noise, and a sharp _twang_ as strings are jostled. Looking towards the counter Emyd sees Billy and Scat Cat carrying an enormous thing, almost as tall as he is, with a long, narrow neck and a wide, teardrop-shaped body. Its ebony stain is so dark that it’s tinted blue, and the dim florescent lights slide over the finish, showing off the barest hint of the grain beneath the lacquer.

“Is size okay?” Billy asks, grunting with the exertion as he and Scat Cat tilt the thing upright, leaning it against a shelf. “I ordered for myself, but,” he shrugs, “can order another.”

“The size is perfect,” he marvels, going straight for the neck and feeling the wood around the back. He can’t help but wonder how in the world a cat expected to be able to play something this big, but worries asking may be rude. “My sitar was closer to a surbahar, anyway. What – what _is_ this?”

“Mandobass,” Billy’s chest puffs out a little, shoulders straight in pride. “Big mandolin.”

“It sure is,” Emyd chuckles, daring to strum slowly, reverently. Though it resonates with the typical mandolin twang, it feels full and earthy. “Cedar. I’ll take it.”

Billy nods, clearly proud of himself. Emyd thinks he deserves to be. “Scat Cat will take your money. Please, enjoy.”

“Trust me, I will.”

* * *

Emyd stands, nervously, before three older women, each wearing a differently coloured dress. Red, green and blue. Odd. Why aren’t they red, yellow and blue? Or red, purple and blue?

“So, can you help me?”

“Music is magic of the heart, dearie. This won’t take but a minute,” the green fairy rests her hand on his before they take the mandobass from him with a wave of their wands, and head into another room. 

Emyd risks a nervous glance back at Lea, who chuckles and nods encouragingly. “Don’t worry, they know what they’re doing.”

“But – what if they break her?”

“Awfully attached to the thing already, huh?”

“Well – she’s no _Arpeggio_ …” he sighs at the thought of his sitar. He misses it, so much. Maybe one day he’ll find another one, but it won’t be the same. “I haven’t even named her yet.”

“Do you need to?”

“Of _course_!” he spins on his heel, gasping. “Lea! If you don’t name your instruments, you can’t form a proper connection with them.”

“Uh – okay. You’re acting like it’s, like, a dog or something.”

“No! No, no,” he shakes his head. “No, my instruments aren’t _dogs_. They’re my _babies_ , Lea.”

Lea raises a brow, looking incredulous for just a moment before cracking up, shaking his head. “You’re too much, you know that? I missed having you around.”


	10. The Pieces Fall Where We Drop Them

It’s been too long. Right? It has to have been too long. There’s no way it should take this long.

Emyd paces through Yen Sid’s office. He swears he can smell burning carpet where he walks, back and forth in front of the window. Shooting stars fall, periodically, in the distance, and every movement sets him nervously craning to see if it’s the others.

“Can’t you just sit down?” Donald huffs. He and Goofy are seated in front of Yen Sid’s desk. His arms are crossed, the feathers on his face fluffed up, tense.

“How are you guys able to? It’s been too long, something must have happened to them, right?”

“It hasn’t even been an hour!”

“What?”

“He’s right,” Goofy says. “Lea left less than an hour ago.”

“Well how long does it take to drip!?”

“Drip?” Goofy cocks his head, the hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“Drop!” Donald corrects him.

“Drop. Right, whatever.”

“He is right. Donald, Goofy, I must send you in after them. Patience is a virtue, Emyd,” Yen Sid hums.

“So they say. But I think it’s pretty clear I don’t have it.”

“You can say that again,” Donald mutters, standing and motioning for Goofy to follow him. How exactly they’re going to help, he doesn’t know, but it’s better than all of them sitting around doing nothing. And it’ll be nice to avoid Donald’s glaring.

“Yen Sid, c’mon, you can’t tell me anything?” Emyd steps over, once they’re alone, to the chair the old man has remained scary-still in since Emyd arrived at the Mysterious Tower.

“I have been feeling for their hearts since Lea left. Meditating, so that I will feel them when they are close to returning. I will alert you when I can feel them once more.”

“Oh,” Emyd deflates. While it’s relieving to hear that Yen Sid has been trying the whole time (which makes him feel like a bit of a dolt for asking, as if the old master was just sitting there with his thumb up his nose), the fact that Yen Sid hasn’t, in fact, felt anything different, doesn’t do anything to quell Emyd’s worries.

“Why didn’t we send Kairi in with Lea? The extra manpower surely would have helped.”

“If Kairi were to follow into Sora’s dreams, we would have no wielders of light left here in the world. And if some tragedy were to befall them all at Xehanort’s hands, there would be none left to fight against him,” he falls silent, head cocking ever so slightly. “I feel Mickey’s heart.”

“What?” Emyd hears something behind him, turns around, and sees Mickey, Riku and Lea – who’s holding Sora’s limp body. He’s by their side in a blink, helping Lea lower Sora gently to the ground, leaning him against the wall. “That was fast!”

“Time flows differently, in dreams,” Yen Sid says, turning to face the group.

“What happened?” Emyd continues, stepping back to give Sora some space.

“It’s Xehanort,” Mickey says. “He’s collecting wielders of darkness!”

“Seven lights, thirteen darknesses,” Yen Sid nods, humming. How the hell he could know just from what Mickey said, Emyd can’t fathom, but at least _someone_ knows what’s going on. “Master Xehanort has been busy.”

Lea follows Emyd to the wall, leaning against it and letting out a breath. His entire body deflates with it, like he’d been holding that breath the entirety of his time in dreams.

“Did he get knocked out?” Emyd cocks his head, examining Sora, from his place across the room. Indeed, the boy looks peaceful, content.

“It’s like his heart is gone, like Kairi’s was,” Mickey sighs.

Yen Sid shakes his head. “No, Mickey. This affliction is not the same.” He turns around in his chair, flipping idly through one of the massive tomes on his desk.

“What can we do for him?” Riku asks.

“In your Mark of Mastery exam,” Yen Sid hums, “you were to unlock seven sleeping keyholes. By doing so, you awakened those worlds from their slumbering prison. As well, you acquired the power to free a world’s heart from sleep. Riku, you unlocked those keyholes from within Sora’s dreams. Therefore, it stands to reason that you hold the power to awaken Sora’s heart.”

“His heart is asleep?” Riku asks, quiet, thoughtful.

“You want him to dive back into Sora’s sleep?” Mickey rounds on Yen Sid. “But Master, I can barely feel his heart. If Sora’s heart is asleep, it must be down in the darkest abyss. If Riku’s not careful, he could get trapped down there with him. I should go instead!”

“No,” Riku shakes his head. “I’ve spent the longest inside Sora’s heart. If anyone should save him, it’s me. After all, I have to repay him for all the times he’s saved me, right?”

 _If that’s his reasoning_ , Emyd thinks, _we should all take a turn awakening Sora’s heart._

Yen Sid nods in agreement, and Mickey sighs before nodding as well.

“Look at his face,” Riku looks back to Sora, smiling fondly. “Sleeping like nothing’s wrong… He’s always been like that. The three of us would agree to work on the raft, and then this guy would go and take a nap on the beach. You see, it’s my job to keep him on his toes. Besides, what kind of keyblade master sleeps through his test?

“But I’m doing it for me, too. To prove I can be the strong one, too, sometimes.”

“There’s something real strong that binds us all to each other,” Mickey looks around the room, meeting everyone’s gaze. “Even in the darkness, you can reach him. All you gotta do is follow that connection!”

“Gee, we’re all connected to Sora,” Goofy says. 

“You said it!” Donald nods.

Lea pushes off of the wall, standing straight. “And if the darkness gets ya, I promise I’ll bail you out again,” he winks.

“None of us would be here if it weren’t for Sora,” Emyd hums, quiet, pensive. “The least we can do is show him how much we appreciate it.”

Lea elbows him in the side with a grin, and he yelps, frowning and rubbing his ribs.

Riku stands up, and it’s his turn to meet everyone’s gaze. “Thank you. Sora and I will be back soon. I promise.” And really, after Riku had dragged himself back out of the darkness, when had he ever broken a promise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter, interlude chapter here! But things start getting exciting again soon, I promise :D


	11. Re: Trace

Ienzo, Even, Dilan and Aeleus sit on the other side of the screen. Sora, Donald, Goofy and Emyd sit, cramped, in the cockpit of the Gummi Ship. The silence, slowly stretching on, is driving Emyd mad, but he doesn’t know what to say, which is also driving him mad. Ienzo is the only one not looking anxious and pensive, rather, he looks determined, if a bit hesitant. Though that could very well be because of just how long the silence has stretched on since he spoke.

Even clears his throat. “Are you… Are you quite sure of this idea of yours, Ienzo?”

“Entirely,” Ienzo nods, before he addresses the group. “I know this sounds risky. But I think it gives us a chance to learn more about the seekers of darkness. Even if we can’t find a way to sabotage their plans, we can at least learn what they are, and stay a few steps ahead.”

Sora purses his lips, humming. “It does seem like they’re always ahead of us…”

Donald quacks in surprise. “You can’t be seriously thinking about this, Sora!”

“Why not!? It’s the best chance we’ve got. Do _you_ have any better ideas?”

Donald is silent. Sora crosses his arms.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Don’tcha think we should ask the King, and Riku?” Goofy asks.

“I’m afraid we may not have time,” Ienzo says. “While I would certainly prefer everyone to know the plan before its execution, they’re not always reachable at a moment’s notice.”

Emyd sighs, shaking his head and shrugging. “I’ll do it,” he says.

Everyone seems surprised, even Ienzo, who blinks through the screen.

It’s Aeleus who finally speaks, in his quiet but commanding way. “After you betrayed the Organization, betrayed Xemnas, do you really think crawling back to them will work?”

“It’s like Sora said,” Emyd shrugs again. “What other choice do we have?”

“I could do it,” Dilan hums. “Or Aeleus.” He glances sideways at his enormous compatriot before looking back at the group. “Though, being a known consort of the resident nerds won’t be a point in his favour.”

Even scoffs, and Ienzo stifles a chuckle.

 _What else am I good for?_ Emyd wants to ask. “They won’t expect it from me,” is what he says instead. “I betrayed them, sure, but if anything, stabbing someone in the back would make most people avoid that someone at all costs. If I show my face, asking to join up again, they probably won’t expect anything. I’m too dumb to pull any stunts, right?”

“That’s what they think, at least.” Ienzo smiles, smaller than usual of late. A small, kind smile just for Emyd. At least, he hopes so. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but it makes him feel a little better. “I think it’s our best chance, certainly.”

“I agree,” Even nods. “Sending in the last person they would expect to rejoin their ranks just might be strange enough to throw them off our trail.”

Donald sighs, shaking his head before looking up at Emyd with defeat in his eyes. “But you’ll have to become a nobody again, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Emyd nods, barely choking the word out. “And I’ll have to become part Xehanort.” The name hangs in the air, joined only by the faint static of everyone’s breathing. “Listen,” Emyd continues, “I signed up for this. More than any of you. Sora, you were chosen by the keyblade, by fate, destiny, whatever. Donald, Goofy, you agreed to serve Mickey, but did you ever think you’d end up travelling the worlds? That the fate of the entire universe would rest, partly, on your shoulders? Even, Dilan, Aeleus, Ienzo, you were _tricked_ by Xehanort. You were forced into a conflict you didn’t even know existed before you became Ansem’s apprentices. None of you chose to fight against the darkness; you just have to. But I did. When I decided to defect from Organization Thirteen and join up with Sora, I _chose_ to align myself in this fight. I made a pointed effort to do so. I’m not going to just throw that away, let someone else get hurt in the process.”

“Emyd,” Sora’s voice cracks, and when Emyd turns to look at him, fat, wet tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. The boy sniffs loudly before throwing his arms around Emyd and holding him tight around the shoulders. “Thank you. You’re such a good friend. We’ll do everything we can to help you while you’re in there, and we’ll get you out as soon as possible.”

“I know,” he smiles, patting Sora on the back. “Thank you, Sora. You know, if it wasn’t for you, for your optimism, your determination, I wouldn’t be here. Maybe none of us would.”

It certainly doesn’t help Sora stop crying. Donald and Goofy throw themselves around the two as well.

* * *

Yen Sid helps Emyd find the Keyblade Graveyard. He says tracing the abundance of darkness emanating from that place is easy enough. So much so that he wonders if Xehanort wants them to find him.


	12. Organization Re: Hash

The others are around, somewhere. He’s told this, but has yet to see anyone he hadn’t expected. _Thirteen darknesses…_ Yen Sid’s voice echoes in his mind. Why are there thirteen darknesses and only seven lights? That doesn’t seem very fair.

Although, it answers the question of their name. _Organization Thirteen_. He always suspected Xemnas was playing the long game, but just how long is finally starting to make itself clear. Though, really, it’s not Xemnas' game at all, is it? It’s Xehanort’s.

It’s always been Xehanort’s.

Emyd suppresses a shudder. He doesn’t know if the wiggling, squirming feeling in his gut is the part of him that’s become Xehanort, or if it’s simply his stomach turning at the thought, but it’s unpleasant, nevertheless.

Saïx meets him on the edge of the desert. It's even more awkward than Emyd had imagined it. He offers a nervous smile. It isn't returned. Instead, Saïx shows him around the complex they've carved for themselves, in the cliff faces. Just how long has Xehanort been here, he wonders? It's not terribly big, but it certainly has enough room to accommodate thirteen people.

“So...where is everybody else?” he ventures.

“Xemnas, Master Xehanort, Xehanort, and Ansem are...” Saïx shrugs. “Plotting, I assume. Xigbar is who knows where. Perhaps with them, perhaps entertaining himself. Marluxia and Larxene are nearby.” 

“Wait, Marly and Larxene joined up again?”

“They offered, and we certainly aren't in a position to decline an offer. We accepted _you_ , after all,” Saïx glances sideways, pointedly, at Emyd, who swallows thickly.

“Right,” he says.

“We have plans for gathering the remaining darknesses, and you shall be a...contingency plan, of sorts. If we cannot fill the positions otherwise, you will be called on to do your job.”

Emyd nods. It makes sense. He's clearly not their first choice. In fact, they're probably surprised, and suspicious, of him joining up again. They'd much rather pull their first draft if they can. Less unpredictability that way.

As much as he's glad he won't be expected to do much _evil_ , Emyd sure hopes he can get the info he needs from the bench.

* * *

His fingers fly over the touch-pad of his gummi phone: _They don’t have all 13 u still have time 2_

“Hey, piss-for-brains.”

Shit. He holds his breath, swallows, somehow, around the lump that’s made its home in his throat. Peeking over his shoulder, sharp eyes glare into his. When she rolls her eyes, he takes the split second that her attention isn’t on him to shove the gummi phone into his pocket before turning around and squaring his shoulders. It’s a pathetic attempt to look innocent. In control, even. He knows it.

Larxene, at least, doesn’t question how shifty he’s being. And, knowing her, it’s not that she doesn’t notice. She simply doesn’t care. Emyd knows what _not caring_ is like all too well.

“What’s up?” _Nice. Very nonchalant._

“You,” she starts, then stops, purses her lips, thinking. “You defected,” Larxene decides on, meeting his gaze with the kind of intensity only she can muster. “I heard Saïx and Marluxia talking about it.”

“Marluxia didn’t pass it on to you, himself?”

She shrugs. “Marluxia knows that I don’t need to know everything. It just complicates things. _He’s_ the plan guy.”

“But you came to me directly. Why?”

She pauses again. This is the most introspective Emyd has ever seen her. Not to look a gift seahorse in the mouth or anything, but it’s sorta creepy.

“I guess I just needed to see if it was true. Which, _obviously_ , given your reaction. Thought maybe they’d gotten tired of you. Spun some story.”

“I guess that would have been more believable,” he hums.

“Yeah. So. That’s all I wanted to know.”

She makes no effort to leave, so Emyd narrows his eyes, studying her face for a long moment.

“Larxene?”

“What?”

“Why did you join up again?”

Something flashes in her eyes – offence, or maybe fear? It’s gone before Emyd can parse the expression.

“I dunno,” she says, roller her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Bored, I guess. Having a heart blows, and there’s not much else to do as a Nobody than this, I guess.”

She’s dodging the question, obviously. But she’s not lying, as far as he can tell (and, even with someone as tricky as Larxene, he can usually tell).

“You – you don’t know why, do you?”

That expression paints her face for another moment, gone before she can finish blinking.

“Let me guess,” Emyd pauses, in case she has any objections. She doesn’t. “One more thing Marluxia hasn’t deigned to tell you?”

Larxene takes a deep, steady breath and sighs it back out. “He wants answers, he said. And that staying close is the only way to get them. Demyx…” It’s the only time she’s used his name, as long as they’ve known each other. “Where did you wake back up? With your heart?”

“Atlantica,” he blinks, letting his answer echo through the hall. Emyd is suddenly incredibly aware of how open it is, how easily someone could walk around the corner. And not much would look more suspicious than Emyd and Larxene alone, having a hushed conversation. “I thought you didn’t care where I’m from.”

“Marluxia and I woke up in Traverse Town,” she hums, apparently not planning on addressing his question. Emyd remembers what Lea had said about Traverse Town.

“Your world is…gone, then?”

Larxene falls silent for a long minute. “I guess. Maybe that’s what Marluxia wants to know.”

“I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

She laughs, incredulous. “Yeah, eventually.”

* * *

As he gets closer to the location Saïx had specified for their meeting, he can see, off in the distance, a tall circle of columns, rising high into the sky. Thirteen columns. That's gotta be where everyone is. Demyx tugs nervously on the sleeves of his new black cloak, and opens a dark corridor.

As he approaches his destination, Demyx can hear a familiar set of voices, caught somewhere between scheming and bickering.

“You up for another coup~?”

“Oh please,” he steps through the corridor and onto the column, slinging _Lydian_ over his shoulder and tuning her idly. “You couldn't do it last time. You gotta play it smart, like me.”

They stand, facing each other, high above the surface of the Keyblade Graveyard below. Emyd wonders if it was Xehanort’s idea, situating them like this, or if Xemnas requested it to mirror the original Organization’s meeting room. How much difference is there between the two of them, Emyd wonders? How much difference is there between any of them, especially now?

Larxene frowns at him, the venom that’s painted across her face only barely reaching her eyes.

_Careful, Larx. I might start to think you’re slipping._

“What!? You're not smart!”

“You heard what Marly said,” Emyd raises a brow, barely sparing her a glance. If anyone could figure out he's up to something, it's these two.

“Or capable, or likeable, or attractive.” Wow, hurtful. What does that have to do with anything? “A cereal bowl would make a better vessel.” Well, at least that's a good thing. Emyd doesn't plan on staying a vessel for long. Especially now that he's been reminded of just why he hates being around Larxene so much.

“You'd be surprised,” he says. “I can be imposing when I want to be! Which is, admittedly, almost never.” But he's also incredibly meek when he wants to be. It's worked out okay for him so far.

“You haven't even been to any worlds! Just leaving all the work for the rest of us. Slacker.”

Emyd shrugs, a smirk tugging the edge of his lips. “I got benched.”

“What?” she cocks her head to the side.

“I overheard Saīx talking about the replicas,” Marluxia hums, drawing Larxene's attention back his way. “They must be planning on using them again.”

“Wouldn't surprise me,” Emyd says. “Those things are way more powerful than they used to be. Hades, one of them stole my spot!” Just how powerful they're going to be without Even, he doesn't know, but it's a good thing they don't have his mind behind the program anymore.

There's a heavy pause between the three of them, before Larxene bursts into laughter, glee splitting her face in a grin. “Oh, that's _priceless_. Though not surprising, of course. I mean, you're a _moron_.”

Emyd frowns. “Har-dee-har,” he says.

“Well, they will be,” Marluxia hums. “Assuming we can ever make enough progress to finish them in time.”

“Whoops!” Larxene smirks, raising a hand to her mouth in faux embarrassment. “I sorta already told Sora that we're ready. My bad.”

“You lied?!” Emyd rounds on her, eyes wide. Maybe he’s playing things up a little too much, but no one pays it any mind.

“Well, whatever,” she shrugs. “We’re almost done, right? Not gonna hurt to keep them on their toes.”

“She’s right,” a deep voice says, the figure that accompanies it appearing from the darkness, and lowering his hood. Xemnas continues: “If they panic, start scrambling, they could start making mistakes. We can use this to our advantage.”

Larxene looks proud of herself. Emyd is trying very hard not to throw up.

“Did you ever wonder,” Xemnas looks to each of them in turn, “how I chose Organization members nine through twelve?”

“Because our hearts were über powerful,” Larxene grins wickedly. 

“Wrong,” Xemnas says.

Before he can elaborate, another figure appears behind Demyx, and he turns, seeing the last person he'd expected: Luxord.

“Another backup?” Marluxia says.

“No, no one 'benched' me,” Luxord shakes his head. “I happen to play an important role.”

“Although, Demyx is not alone on the benches,” Xemnas says, gesturing as another figure appears, in another black swirl of smoke, on one of the empty columns.

The figure pulls his hood back, revealing long blond hair and a familiar, stern face.

“Vexen!?” Emyd only barely uses the right name, and almost falls backwards off of his own platform in surprise.

“What is this, Organization Rehash?” Larxene raises a brow, clearly just as confused, he hopes, for a very different reason.

Emyd carefully returns to a neutral expression, going back to standing squarely, proudly. He and Vexen share a very pointed look. It only lasts a split second, but it lets him take a deeper breath. The barely-there nod Vexen gives him, that he doesn’t dare return, says _We’ll talk later_ and it’s…it’s something.

He can’t help but worry that something’s gone horribly, terribly wrong.

Or, Emyd supposes, they don’t trust him. Or! Can he not trust Vexen?

 _Poseidon_ , it’s going to be a long meeting, until they can talk.


	13. Collaboration

“What the hell, Even?” he barely gets the door closed behind him before he hisses, arms raising incredulously.

“Please, Emyd, calm down,” Even turns his back to finish organizing some instruments on his desk. It’s so casual that it catches Emyd off-guard. Though, he’d taken a gamble on using Even’s true name, and finds it relieving, refreshing, when the gesture is returned.

“Calm down?” he pushes past the ease. _This is no time for letting your guard down!_ “You guys were supposed to leave me, no matter what! They haven’t caught on yet, and if we’re both here, it could blow our cover!”

Even sighs, turning around. “I understand your frustration,” he says. “But we hadn’t heard from you in too long.” Shit. He's right. Emyd had totally forgotten to hit the 'send' button on that text when Larxene had cornered him. “The majority thought it best if someone go in after you. And,” he crosses the room, to another set of scary-looking instruments – these ones quietly whirring and beeping, “with their continued interest in my replicas, it was not difficult to find them again. It almost felt as if Xemnas, too, was seeking me out.”

“You should have trusted me! That was the plan! I volunteered for this. I knew the risks.”

“Emyd,” Even frowns, “we were worried about you.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“I know the plan was to leave you, of course. And I doubt I must remind you that I was against this very idea in the first place,” Even continues. “But we need to work together, or we won’t win. We can’t afford to lose anyone.”

Emyd hums, hurt, for a moment, by Even’s choice of words. But, after a moment to think about it, he can tell that Even seems…sheepish? His shoulders are slumped, and his gaze seems to fall on every part of Emyd’s face _except_ his eyes.

“Shucks, Even, I didn’t know you cared so much,” he chuckles, testing the waters.

Even shrugs; a stiff roll of his right shoulder. He looks away with a grunt.

 _He_ does _care_. Emyd had assumed that Sora had said something to get Even to come in after him. Or Ienzo had said something. He’d never expected Even to actually worry about him. About his safety.

Emyd doesn’t press it. He got his answer.

“Watch out for Larxene,” he changes the subject. “And Marluxia.”

“Of course,” Even nods, turning back to face him, something like relief on his face. “Back to their usual schemes, are they?”

“Not in so many words,” Emyd pauses, glancing around them; conspicuously. It earns a soft, breathy chuckle from Even. “I’ll explain later, if we can sneak off at some point.”

“That’s the benefit of being on the bench,” Even grins his sharp, wicked grin. “We have more freedom than Larxene, and even Saïx. Our _leashes_ , so to speak, are much longer.”

* * *

Even wasn't kidding. They're given free reign to do whatever they want with their time. As long as Even makes steady progress on the replicas, he and Emyd are left to their own devices.

The most important information they gather, however, falls right into their laps. Well, Even's lap, at least.

“What? No way!” Emyd pulls away to look in Even's eyes for any sign he's lying. Though – what purpose would that serve? Even isn't the type of guy to play a prank like that, either. So... “You're sure?”

“Yes,” Even nods. “He told me he wants to atone. To make things right.”

“Well I should hope so! He split my skull like an egg!”

“Shh! Idiot. Keep your voice down,” Even smacks him upside the head, frowning. He crosses the room, to a table with a linen-wrapped replica laying on it. The blank, mannequin-like carcasses freak Emyd out, so Even had to start covering them up. “Here, make yourself useful and pick up this body. We have to deliver it.”

“To Xemnas?” Emyd sighs.

“No,” Even smirks, raising his chin proudly. “To Ienzo.”

Emyd hoists the body over his shoulder like it's nobody's business, immediately opening a dark corridor. “You got it. See you soon.”

“Wait! Not so fast,” Even interrupts him on his way. “I need you to pick up something else along the way.” The smile on his face doesn't send a shiver down Emyd's spine. For once.

* * *

When he arrives in Radiant Garden, he finds himself not in a laboratory, but a computer room. Ienzo stands before the large screen, contemplating whatever is on it.

“Hey, long time no see,” he says.

Ienzo turns around, shock, and then relief painting his face when he sees Emyd. “You're here. I was so worried... We all were.”

“Nope, I'm just fine,” Emyd says, laying the replica on the ground carefully. “Just had a special delivery.”

“Yes, thank you, this will be invaluable,” Ienzo smiles.

“Not only that,” Emyd grins, stepping out of the way of his portal and waving his hands toward it until a man steps out from it. This guy isn't anything special to Emyd, but the way Ienzo tenses, like he's been frozen in place, shows just how much he cares about this guy.

“Ansem...”

“Hello again, little Ienzo.”

Aeleus and Dilan rush into the room, stopping in their tracks when they see Ansem, as well.

As much as Emyd wants to stay, to properly meet this man that means so much to his friends, he can recognize a private moment when he sees one. So Emyd quietly backs into his portal, and disappears once more.

After this is over, they should have all the time in the worlds.


	14. The Last Light

He had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

They had fought, pushed, wished, as hard as they could, to avoid the fight, the clash between light and darkness. But it was inevitable. And all they could do was hope that they would come out victorious.

The thirteen darknesses converge in the Keyblade Graveyard, splitting the seven lights into teams, separating them, keeping them from each others' strength. He can't see them, not yet, but he knows the plan.

 _If they are somehow able to defeat the Demon Tide, we must ensure they cannot regroup._ Ansem's voice echoes in his mind. Emyd shudders.

A dark corridor opens beside him, and he turns to see Even's arm outstretched towards it. They share a glance, and Even steps into the portal, which shuts behind him, swallowing his familiar form.

He has to be with the others. Has to make sure they're safe in Radiant Garden. Everyone has their priorities. Emyd hasn't known his for as long as some, maybe. Like Sora, or Aqua. But he's known them for long enough, now, to know what he has to do; he promised that he would do his best to help. It feels like years, even though it's only been a few months. It surprises him, how resolute he is to follow through with that promise.

He opens a dark corridor of his own, taking a shortcut into the centre of the maze. He knows where each trio of vessels will be, and appears at the entrance to the arena that Saïx is dominating. Sora, Lea and Kairi are holding their own well enough, but Saïx and his hooded companion are pushing back. He still doesn't know who that hooded replica girl is – no one would tell him – but she has a keyblade, which none from the light side had been able to figure out. Not even Yen Sid. Well, he'll find out soon, one way or another.

“You finally made it!” Lea calls over the clang of metal-on-metal.

“Of course,” Emyd grins. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Saïx looks over to him, just for a moment, eyes glowing, flashing with surprise, then anger, then (Emyd swears, the bright glow of his berserker rage dims, briefly) with understanding, before he leaps at Sora. Kairi tries to go to his aid, but they're both swept backwards by a powerful blow. Lea intercepts, crying out, trying to get through to Saïx. Little did he know that Emyd had tried that route before, to no avail.

And then, Xemnas appears.

Emyd rushes to Sora and Kairi's side, playing a soft tune for them, Curaga coursing through the notes. He watches, gaze darting between Xemnas and Lea, and Sora and Kairi. Xemnas calls him, and Lea, the greatest traitors of all, which is just hurtful.

It's not until Lea's keyblade breaks that Emyd starts to actually worry.

They knew they'd have to fight him, eventually. Fight all of them. Probably kill all of them, too. But to outright crush Lea's keyblade? None of them had expected that sort of power. Kairi goes pale, and her grip on her own keyblade tightens. He can understand her panic; they started training at the same time. If anyone's likely to suffer the same fate, it's her. Emyd helps Sora and Kairi to their feet, prepared to open a dark corridor to escape if necessary. It's a last resort – it's dangerous without a cloak to keep the darkness at bay. But if anyone can handle it, it's the keyblade's chosen and a princess of heart.

Xemnas summons bolts of light that fly towards Lea. Emyd rushes forward, strumming Lydian powerfully, the way he had when he'd kept that boulder from striking Goofy, back on his first day as a good guy. It stops a few of the projectiles, leaving them to clatter to the ground limply. A few, though, hit Lea, and he grunts, clenching his fists with the exertion of staying upright.

But before Xemnas can deliver the final blow (before, no doubt, coming for Emyd and the others), a small, gloved hand interrupts his swing. Everyone's eyes turn to the hooded figure, half-lying limply in the dirt, hand tight around Xemnas' blade.

“Changing sides again?” he asks, sounding less than surprised. Perhaps Xemnas has grown accustomed to betrayal. But...who could it be, if he has been betrayed by her before? 

“We need him alive,” she says, with a small voice. It sounds...strangely familiar.

“We don't – ” Xemnas starts, then stops himself, and smirks. “Oh, yes. You were friends before, weren't you? Then _you_ can kill him.”

She stands, unsteady, looking down at Lea, who's finally hunched down in pain and exhaustion, low to the ground. Her keyblade wavers before him, grip as shaky as the rest of her.

“Who...are you?” Lea finally asks the question everyone has been wondering.

Sora passes Emyd, walking proudly up to the replica. He puts his hand on her keyblade, and both she and Lea flinch a little, turning to look at Sora as if they'd only just realized he was there. Perhaps they only just had.

“You don't have to do this,” he says, softly, strongly. In a way only Sora can. She lets out a breathy whine and rears back, only to bring her keyblade down on Sora's. Over and over, she pounds away at his weapon, but it's clear she isn't trying to hurt him. Only release the anger, and fear, that's holding her taut like a wire.

“Stop!” Sora eventually cries, peering up at her from behind his keyblade. “You can stop now! It's okay! Xion!”

That gets her to pause. The girl – Xion? Why does that... Her shoulders shake, slowly devolving into full-body sobs. The hint of tears glint off her cheeks from the harsh sunlight above. Xion screams, holding her head in her hands and flailing about. Is this a replica thing? What's going on? Kairi tries to rush forward – to Sora's aid no doubt – but Emyd bars her progress with an outstretched arm.

Xemnas, ever pragmatic, takes the opportunity to push her backwards, into Sora. “Useless puppet,” he scoffs. The two fly back, and her hood falls off with the motion.

She doesn't look familiar, except for her eyes. They're just like...

“Xion!” Lea gasps.

Wait...Xion? _Xion!_ Emyd grips the side of his head, as a rush of memories come flooding into his mind. Memories of the first Organization. Memories he never wanted to think about again. Yet – now he grasps at those memories, forcing himself to remember them in their entirety. An entirety, apparently, that had been forgotten until this moment. How could he have forgotten Xion!?

Wait...why does she look like this, now? No, it's not important. The important thing is that she's back, and she's alright, and the Organization doesn't have its thirteen darknesses anymore.

Xemnas snarls, and goes to attack again. His blade aims at Xion. Lea reaches for them, cries out impotently. Emyd does so as well. He’s still holding Kairi back. Sora starts glowing. Wait, what?

A bright light arcs out of Sora's body, high into the sky, before it falls down again, hard and fast. Xemnas leaps out of the way before it hits him, and the light kicks up so much dust they have to cover their eyes, cough it out of their mouths. When it finally settles, another cloaked figure stands where the light landed. But this figure doesn't have his hood up.

Lea's voice cuts through the air. “Roxas...”

“You have a replica too?” Xemnas growls. “But how?”

Roxas turns, smiling at Lea and Xion in turn, ignoring Xemnas in order to greet his best friends. But then he glances at Emyd, and nods. And glances at Saïx, and nods. “You're not as good at winning over people's hearts as you think.”

Xemnas smirks, disappearing in a flash, and appearing behind them all. He grips Kairi's bicep, holding it high above her head. She has to go up on her toes to stay balanced, and though she struggles against the hold, it's to no avail.

“Kairi!” Sora cries. 

“No matter,” Xemnas says. “We still have another darkness to make thirteen.”

They what!? But who?

Sora looks to Emyd with wide eyes, and Emyd shakes his head, shrugging.

Xemnas disappears in a dark corridor, taking Kairi with him. 

“Emyd, go!” Lea calls. “We've got it handled here. Find them!”

Emyd nods, and disappears through his own portal. He only hopes that Kairi's heart is bright enough for him to follow through the darkness.

* * *

He doesn't make it far before he feels a light heart calling to him. Emyd can't feel who it is, exactly. He doesn't have enough practice with feeling hearts to be able to. But he knows it's a powerful heart of light. It's gotta be Kairi, right?

Emyd steps out into the Keyblade Graveyard, and finds himself in an open area, empty but for a single man, hunched over and breathing hard.

“Yen Sid?” he starts. “You summoned me here...? But I have to find Kairi!”

Yen Sid shakes his head. “No, Emyd, you must let them do this themselves.”

“No! I'm here to help, not to sit by and watch.”

“They are on this journey for a reason, but you are not one of the seven lights. If they cannot do this themselves, they will surely fail. So says the prophecy.”

“The prophecy is stupid!”

Yen Sid recoils a little, blinking at him with a strange mixture of bewilderment and condescension. Emyd sighs, shoulders slumping.

“I can't just sit by and do nothing,” he says. “Not anymore.”

“We are not doing nothing,” Yen Sid takes two long strides to join him, his imposing figure feeling strangely comforting in the moment. “We are adding the strength of our hearts to theirs. Our hearts are connected, and because of that, we will always be with them.”

It feels like a cop-out, but he can't find the words to say as much.

“But will my heart even help?” he finally decides on. “I'm part Xehanort. If anything, I might be helping _him_.”

“Your heart is connected with Sora's, with Roxas', Xion’s, with Lea's, and Riku's. They will resonate much more strongly than Xehanort's ever could,” Yen Sid smiles softly, almost paternally. “Your friendship is just the power they need.”

Yen Sid doesn't seem like lying type, even if it would ease someone's mind. So Emyd has to take his word for it. He also has to admit that what used to be one of his favourite pastimes has become his least favourite: waiting.


	15. Epilogue

“The Mark of Mastery is a test,” Yen Sid explains to Emyd for the thousandth time. “Mature keyblade wielders take it when their masters believe them ready to become keyblade masters of their own.”

“And...this is important to me how?”

“I need you, Emyd, for my test,” Kairi says, a bright smile on her face. He's quickly learning that, like the others in their fast-expanding group, he just can't say no to Kairi when she smiles like that.

“So, what, you're gonna drop into my heart? Just take a nap up in me?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, no, nothing like that. Master Yen Sid says my exam is entirely different.”

“I won't lie and say I'm not relieved, but why? Doesn't that just complicate things?”

“Each Mark of Mastery exam is tailored to the participants' own personal needs. The skill they most will need to utilize as a keyblade master,” Yen Sid says. “Twelve years ago, Aqua and Terra's mark of mastery exam was a simple sparring match. At the time, Eraqus believed the worlds to be safe. He thought control, and teamwork, were the most important skills his pupils would need to know. He had no idea of the evil lurking beneath, within his own colleague.

“Sora and Riku needed to learn how to dive into dreams, and hearts, and unlock the secrets within. To know the inner workings of a heart – not only the hearts of people but of the worlds themselves – was the only way they would be able to save those worlds, and their denizens.

“And now, Kairi must prove that she can unlock a heart, to purify it. Though the Organization has been defeated, still its old members lurk. Just as Isa has awoken from death, as you did before, Emyd, with his heart made whole, I am certain other former Organization Thirteen members have awoken as well. And so Kairi must hone her reign over hearts. As a princess of heart, proof that she can unlock a heart is crucial to her role as both princess, and as keyblade master.”

“Besides,” Kairi says, “Riku promised he would teach me how to drop once I became a master too. One thing at a time, right, Master Yen Sid?”

Yen Sid nods. “And so, Emyd, I ask again: would you be willing to lend yourself to us? If this works, your heart will be whole again. Of course, the part of Xehanort that was inside of you is gone, but you still remain a nobody.”

Emyd doesn't like the way he phrases the 'inside you' thing, but he has to admit that Yen Sid has a point. All he wanted, back in the original Organization, was to have his heart back, to get to go home.

He can't go home, now, not yet. Sure, they defeated Xehanort, and the worlds are safe again, but... Sora...

He looks at Kairi, searching her face, and sees the same desperate yearning he can feel pulling in his chest. The beginning of a heart growing on its own, just like the first time. But he doesn't have time to wait. Emyd needs his heart whole, and full of light again, back to full strength. And Kairi needs to become a keyblade master, to prove herself, so she can begin training for the search for Sora too.

He's saved all of them, over and over again. Not one of them will refuse to return the favour, just this once.

“Alright,” Emyd says. “But answer me one question first.”

“What is that?” Yen Sid hums.

“Is this gonna hurt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you guys thank you so much for taking this journey with me ;w; Thank you for sticking by me and encourage me while I put out this story that I worked so hard on. But I couldn't have done it without so many different people-  
> Miescha, my best friend, the one who RPs Demyx in all of our stuff, the one I originally bounced this idea off of like, years ago, my editor who made sure Dem/Emyd's voice was consistent and in character, and made sure all my dumb spelling errors were gone, and the one who laughed at all the jokes first.  
> The Rogue Nebula, all of its mods and participants, for giving me this opportunity in the first place, for encouraging me and being so kind and supportive.  
> Nerro, my artist, who brought my vision to life, who drew Emyd's tail exactly how I pictured it. I seriously am still head over heels for that art. It was the first art I've ever had done for a fic and am so so in love with it.  
> Besin, someone who became a fast friend and comrade throughout the Nebula, who taught me so much about writing and has really kept me inspired this whole time.   
> My husband, who knows very little about Kingdom Hearts and only mocked me a little when I cried my way through KH3. I'm gonna make him read this now that it's done because I'm very proud of it.
> 
> And of course, all of the random or semi-random people who just found this fic and decided to give it a chance. I appreciate all of the comments, the kudos, and hits I've gotten. It seriously is so inspirational. Thank you all so so much for taking time out of your busy lives to read my story.
> 
> Please keep an eye out for future projects. I've got something big coming and hope to get it ready to begin publishing soon. <3 Stay kind.


End file.
